


In the Shadow of Cerberus (Part 1 of The Adventures of Liv Shepard)

by ariellesallee



Series: The Adventures of Liv Shepard [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: AU, F/F, F/M, Mass Effect 2, Mass Effect 2: Arrival, Mass Effect 2: Lair of the Shadow Broker, Mass Effect 2: Overlord, Multi, Paragade (Mass Effect), Spacer (Mass Effect), The Adventures of Liv Shepard (Mass Effect), Vanguard (Mass Effect), War Hero (Mass Effect)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-03-07 10:24:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3171410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariellesallee/pseuds/ariellesallee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liv Shepard died, and she’s not sure just who it was Cerberus brought back. Garrus Vakarian failed at everything, and he’s not sure how to put things right again. Tali’Zorah vas Neema went back to her people, but she’s not sure where she belongs. They don’t have time to wallow in self-pity, though—the Reapers are coming, and there are people who need their help. Set during Mass Effect 2, covering most of the events of that game. Somewhat AU. (Eliana Naseer is used with permission from workingonsomecalibrations.tumblr.com, who originally created her.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my full-length fic! It’s meant to be the first of a series that will cover from the early bits of Mass Effect 2 through the Reaper War and beyond. Features Liv Shepard, my aromantic Paragade vanguard. It’s Shakarian and Shakarizorah fic, with a good dose of other characters. Liara and Miranda will play major roles, as will an OC or two and probably people I’m not aware of yet. Romance, but also angst and drama. It’s probably rated Teen or so; I’m not much into writing sex scenes.

_Darkness. Cold. A burning pain in the chest._

_Golden light flared in her vision, shattering the darkness. She’d long wondered if she could go to heaven, with all the deaths on her hands. Was that what this was? Was she to be allowed into some glorious afterlife?_

_Red replaced gold, and for a moment, her vision resolved. It wasn’t the light of heaven. It was the beam of the attacking ship, cutting another piece of the Normandy in two. The red was pieces of the frigate streaking into the atmosphere of the planet below._

_Her chest burned more fiercely, and she realized that she couldn’t breathe. She tried to suck in air and found none. There was a hissing sound; oxygen was escaping her suit._

_On instinct she began scrabbling at the back of her hardsuit, desperation clouding everything else. She couldn’t stop her arms, couldn’t stop squirming, trying to stop the air leaking out. Her lungs were on fire, her body was frozen. Darkness rolled in again. She was choking. Her lungs were on fire. She was red and black and there was no heaven, there was no afterlife, there was nothing… nothing…_

_Nothing at all._

Shepard startled awake, gasping, hands going to her throat. She was drenched in sweat and shaking. Pulling her hands down from her throat, she clutched at the blanket and pulled it around her to block out the cold. She turned to stare at the timepiece on her bedside table.

0300\. Too early to be awake.

She fell back against the bed—the softest she’d slept on in years—and stared up at the window placed in the ceiling. Streaks went by outside, a familiar sight to anyone who’d spent much time in space. Inexperienced spacers thought every point of light outside a ship’s window was a star (or maybe a galaxy), but at this speed they were x-ray sources shifted into the visible spectrum, which included stars but also many other things. Out there she was seeing black holes, supernova remnants, neutron stars, and the faint glow that permeated the background, most of it from galaxies so far off they could barely be seen by even the most powerful telescopes.

One of her favorite things to do was program display screens so they’d shift the cosmic microwave background radiation into visible wavelengths. To know that the faint glow she saw was the last echo of the birth of the universe was an amazing thing. But this window over her bed couldn’t be programmed at all, so she made do with black holes and neutron stars.

Staring out at the stars (and black holes and supernova remnants) calmed her. The dreams had gotten worse since Cerberus had brought her back. She was long used to nightmares—it came with being a soldier—and during the Eden Prime War she’d had them almost every night. Those nightmares had not been her own. The Prothean message that the beacon had imprinted on her brain replayed night after night, as if to keep itself uppermost in her mind. Even after Sovereign was gone, the message kept playing, over and over, as if to say: _the Reapers are coming. The Reapers are coming. The Reapers are coming._

In the week since she’d come back, nobody had really been able to sufficiently explain to her what had happened. Had she died? Gone into a coma? It wasn’t really clear, and Shepard wasn’t even sure the Cerberus people knew for sure themselves. What she knew was that she’d had the Prothean beacon dream only three times. Every night—even the ones with the beacon-dream—she’d dreamed of dying. Or maybe more replayed the memory, over and over. The burning pain, the darkness, the choking, the cold. And then… nothing.

She took a deep, shuddering breath in. She could breathe. She was alive. She had to repeat it to herself sometimes: _I’m alive. I’m Commander Shepard, and I’m alive._

When she’d woken on that slab it was to the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Something had told her to trust that voice, some gut instinct that said _this person will help you._ That was the only thing that had kept her with Taylor and Wilson when she’d found out they were Cerberus. She had spent so much effort taking Cerberus down, and now it turned out they’d had her for two years? Rebuilt her?

Her gut told her to trust Miranda Lawson, so when the woman said Shepard didn’t have a control chip in her brain, that they’d done everything they could to bring her back as she’d once been, Shepard believed her. Mostly.

Pain in her chest again, not at all related to dying. Or maybe because of it, indirectly. There were doubts, nagging doubts. Shepard had all the memories, had the beacon vision still in her mind, had the battle prowess. She was Commander Shepard. She was. She was not some VI, she was _not_ being controlled by Cerberus, she was herself still.

Wasn’t she?

Shepard pushed the doubt away. She wasn’t totally sure she trusted Miranda Lawson, but she thought she’d come to, eventually. Or maybe better put, she thought she could get the woman to trust her. Lawson, she felt, was the key to breaking free of Cerberus’ control.

Because whatever they said, whatever the Illusive Man claimed, she was in their control and make no mistake. That was the source of the pain in her chest, like a heavy weight, and the prickling in her eyes. For a few days she’d clutched tight to the thought that if she could just get to the Alliance, she’d be okay. Get to the Alliance, and they would deliver her from Cerberus. She’d be a Spectre again, be able to fight the Collectors on her own terms.

Her former crew was all gone, scattered, except Joker, but at least they were all okay. Well, all but one. Not knowing where Garrus Vakarian was tied her stomach in knots. He was her sniper, her tech expert. Knowing he was there when she went toe-to-toe with enemies, shotgun in hand, had given her confidence all through the Eden Prime War. Without him… without anyone… she felt lost.

Oh, she had Joker, but he couldn’t come down to missions with her. And there was a tension between them, something covered by jokes and banter, but hanging in the air, keeping them apart. Shepard had died saving his life. And she couldn’t explain in the right words that it didn’t bother her. Well. Not as much as he probably thought. The right words were _I love you, Joker,_ but he would take it for something other than what it was.

"Love" was such a loaded word, loaded with things Shepard would never, ever mean. She hadn’t ever loved _anyone_ romantically and she was certain she never would. But she loved her friends, loved her crew, as fiercely as any other woman loved a spouse. Just… differently. To die for people you loved, to die saving them, it wasn’t so bad.

But she couldn’t find the right words to explain this to Joker, and he couldn’t find the words to apologize. So there was tension, and no one else she could talk to, and the walls had ears anyway. She’d never hated AI the way most people did—distrusted them, worried about them, but never _hated_ them—but EDI was a Cerberus creation; could she trust it? She wasn’t sure. She didn’t trust Miranda wholly yet despite her gut feeling, but she found herself liking the woman even with her cold attitude. She could see glimmers of someone funny and warm beneath the “ice queen” veneer.

Her crew were okay, except Garrus. Nobody knew where he was, and the thought rattled up in her brain and sent waves of worry through her at random intervals. But the rest were unavailable, and so she was alone.

Seeing Tali again on Freedom’s Progress had been the first moment she’d thought things might be okay. She’d wanted more than anything for Tali to come with her. She respected the quarian’s duty to her people, but watching her leave had hurt so badly. She missed Tali desperately, more than she’d expected to. Tali would have understood, about loving your crew enough to die for them. Tali might have been able to help her find the words for Joker. Tali would have come up when Shepard woke shaking at 0300 and listen to all of her fears.

But Tali had her people, and Garrus was missing, and everyone else was busy. So she had thought, _go to the Alliance._ At least maybe they’d be able to help her find another crew. The first thing when she got command of the new Normandy, got control of where the ship went, she headed to the Citadel to report in.

She had thoughts of convincing the Alliance to impound the ship until they could get the Cerberus bugs off it, or convincing them to give her a new ship entirely. Oh, hell, at the worst, convincing them to let her go “undercover” with Cerberus, take the organization down from the inside. All with their support, of course. Wasn’t that the kind of crazy shit Spectres did?

Nothing had gone as she’d expected. Anderson had less power than she’d imagined he would, Udina was still skulking around, and while the Council were grateful she’d saved them (sacrificing 2400 human lives in the process, she remembered bitterly), they would give her no more than token support. Anderson had barely more information on her old crew than the Illusive Man did. She wasn’t Alliance anymore, and she was barely a Spectre. She had no support expect a terrorist organization, and the Reapers were coming.

Bitter, resentful, she’d only stopped long enough to pick up the thief named Kasumi Goto before ordering the Normandy to Omega. She would gather a crew, ensure they were loyal to _her_ and not Cerberus, use the Illusive Man as far as she needed him, and fuck the Alliance and the Council both. Whole colonies were disappearing. It left a sickened feeling in her gut; she’d seen what batarian slavers did, out in the Traverse, and this seemed a hundred times worse. Someone had to do _something._ Besides, the Reapers were coming. She’d save the galaxy by herself if she had to.

She meant the thought to sound fierce and powerful but it only felt hollow and lonely.

She tried to push all that away as she stared up at the streaks of light outside the window. She thought of the galaxies far away that gave that faint background glow, thought of what sort of life might be in them. It was a thing she’d done as long as she could remember, whenever she could be near a window on the ships she’d grown up on. Sometimes she thought if she hadn’t joined the Alliance, she might’ve been a scientist. Not that she really had any technical specialization to speak of, but it was a good “what if” to pass the time. Maybe if she closed her eyes, she could fall asleep again…

 _I wonder if those galaxies have Reapers, too._ The thought intruded on her reverie and she groaned aloud.

"Commander Shepard?" It was the AI’s voice, accompanied by a soft glowing blue light in the corner of the room.

Shepard sighed and closed her eyes, trying to ignore it.

"Commander Shepard, my sensors indicate you are awake. Would you like breakfast? I can wake Mess Sergeant Gardner."

Shepard sighed again. They went through this every time she woke early. “No, EDI,” she said as patiently as she could. “Don’t wake Gardner. I can forage for myself.”

"Very well, Shepard." A pause. "I must express concern over your well-being. You do not get an optimal amount of sleep, and when you wake you are in a state of distress."

There wasn’t going to be any going back to sleep tonight. Shepard sat up and grumbled, “I have nightmares, EDI. I don’t sleep too well.”

"I see." Another pause. "Would you like something to help you sleep? There are drugs that could ensure you do not dream."

Shepard frowned into the darkness, considering. “No,” she said after a moment. “Can’t take the risk I might not wake up in an emergency.”

"Very well, Shepard. But if I can help you in any way, do not hesitate to ask."

As she reached for the light, Shepard hesitated. She frowned at the ceiling. Was that… _concern_ in the AI’s voice? She reminded herself that it _was_ an AI, and thus self-aware and capable of emotions. She chose her next words carefully.

"What I really need is something you can’t provide, EDI. I need… a friend."

"I see." Definite emotion, if held back. Had Shepard hurt the AI’s feelings?

"That’s not… I didn’t mean it like that. I mean someone I knew from before, someone I trust. I’ll trust all of you eventually, I’m sure." Was she really sure? No, not really, but she kept going despite the lie. "I just… I’m going through a lot. There’s no one I can talk to. I miss my old crew."

There a sense, almost, of eased tension. “Perhaps we will find one of your crew mates out here,” EDI said. Shepard was sure the AI had said it just to cheer her up.

Shepard laughed. “Really? One of my old crew, on Omega? I really doubt that, EDI. But thanks for the thought.”

She got up, got dressed, prepared to go down to the mess hall, all the while ignoring the coiling knot of worry underlying everything else, the feeling that twisted up her stomach and made her not want to bother eating.

Where _was_ Garrus Vakarian? And was he okay?

***

There hadn’t been any gunfire for… what, ten minutes now? Garrus rested his helmeted head against the wall, wondered if he dared move to get some of the food sitting on a shelf across the room. Dry rations might not be much, but he’d had enough enough in the apartment for a team of twelve. The thought was bitter, and made icy heat swell inside.

Garrus pushed the rage down without thought. Turians were nothing if not _disciplined._ His problems right now were practical. He’d eaten all the rations he’d had in reach, and he was hungry again, enough to affect his aim. Did he dare cross the room to get food? Did he care if he got shot? Did he care if he starved? Which would hurt less, in the end?

He couldn’t just lay down and die, even if that’s what he wanted to do at this point. It wasn’t in his psyche; that he even entertained the thought showed how far he’d fallen, how much he’d failed at being a proper turian.

It had started while he’d sat in an escape capsule, staring out the tiny window at the burning wreck of the Normandy. He had argued with Shepard over getting into the capsule, but she’d ordered him to _go_ so firmly and strongly that he was moving before he realized, turian instinct taking over. She had glared at him, grey eyes snapping. Fierce and brave, soft but never weak. It was an image he would have to hold onto for a long time.

Only a minute or two later, Kaidan had climbed into the pod and hammered on a button, sent it flying out into space.

"Shepard’s still back there!" Garrus had protested.

"She ordered me to go," Kaidan had said, in a tone that was ‘you know how she is.’ "She’s gone to get Joker off the ship."

So Garrus sat with the humans crowded into the pod, and watched their home dying. Garrus prayed to spirits he wasn’t even sure existed that the others were alright. Tali, Wrex, Liara, Moreau, Shepard. _Shepard. Please, spirits, let her be alive._ A tiny hole began somewhere in his middle, at the thought of having to pray like this at all.

It was a hit in the gut when the rescue ship picked them up and they saw Joker talking to the captain of the cruiser, with Shepard nowhere in sight. The pilot looked over at them and the truth was there on his face. She hadn’t made it. If she had, she’d have been checking on her crew, demanding someone scan the wreckage for clues to who had done this, even if she was doing so from a hospital bed.

The most horrible part was, it was _then_ that Garrus realized that he loved her. _Loved_ her, the way you saw in vids, a way he’d only ever loved one other woman. He’d had plenty of relationships, to be sure, but love was a thing rare in his experience, even as he watched others declare (with fervent belief) that they loved whatever turian or asari or quarian they were fucking that month. Even compared to the other turians that _didn’t_ do that, this was a rare and precious thing for him to feel.

To know it now, that his feeling of friendship and respect had grown into this other thing… it was like something had crawled inside him and taken up residence, gnawing at his organs, expanding the hole in his middle that had begun on the escape pod. He’d said nothing to anyone, but he thought Liara knew, because she’d looked at him with an expression he thought, if he was reading her right, mirrored his own. Liara had loved Shepard, too, and now… now she was gone. Lost to them both, and neither had ever really had her.

He watched the crew break up, watched Tali and Wrex go back to their people, the Alliance crew go various ways, Liara try to go back to her research on the Protheans. He decided the only thing he could do was what he’d told Shepard he was going to do, what he’d been working on anyway. He went back to the Citadel and joined up with the Spectre training program his father had talked him out of years ago.

He spent some time shadowing an asari Spectre named Eliana Naseer. The woman reminded him of Kaidan—she was a joint tech-and-biotics expert, she was tough in battle and fun off-duty, and she had a penchant for taking the moral high ground, even more than Shepard ever had. They got along well, and they could have been friends if he hadn’t been so distant.

The thing inside him gnawed and clawed, made life dull and colorless. Naseer took him along checking out some business the Blue Suns were up to, and he should have enjoyed taking out the ruthless mercs, but he just couldn’t care. In their downtime he found himself staring into space idly, wondering when Shepard would call—because surely she was just in the hospital, right?—and then he’d suddenly remember all over again and something horrible would overwhelm him.

The worst of it was, he could see her everywhere. Walking down the halls of the Citadel, strolling along the Presidium—maybe stopping to help with the wreckage. He could imagine the new favorite spots she’d find in the Wards, places to drink and dance and gamble, even if she did one of those three things very badly.

The battlefield was no better. Naseer tended to wear red and silver, and worked at shorter range than he did, and sometimes in his scope he’d see the flicker of red off her shoulder and think it was Shepard. He’d imagine what she’d do in a fight, how she’d taken down an enemy. Shepard haunted Garrus, and it was driving him mad.

The last straw came just after Naseer told him she was going to recommend him for the Spectres. She had one last mission for him to do first, and it would involve Liara. She wasn’t very clear about what it was, but left him a time and place to meet up. It wasn’t official Spectre business, she said, nobody in the Council or the Spectre office was to know, come quiet, come alone.

That flaunting of the system should’ve galvanized Garrus, and duty reared up too. Liara was his friend and former shipmate, and Naseer had been a great mentor. He knew he should go help. But he couldn’t do it, couldn’t face Liara’s grief, that shared pain. He couldn’t fight alongside her again, knowing there was a presence missing. Even worse, working with the asari Spectre filling the missing vanguard’s spot, doing the close-range fighting and biotic support. As good as Naseer was, how could she ever replace Shepard?

So he fled. Sent Naseer a message of apology, stopped checking all his extranet accounts, sent his family a terse farewell, and fled to Omega. There he’d found new purpose, a new team, a new mission.

And he’d failed, like he’d failed in everything else. Over time the feeling had returned, the thing inside, hollowing him out until it seemed there was nothing left. It wasn’t just Shepard—that was only the start. He wasn’t so emotionally fragile or romantically inclined that he couldn’t live without her. If it had just been Shepard, he would have found a way to go on.

It was Shepard, and the losing battle on Omega. It was letting his father down, and losing his team. It was Sidonis’ betrayal. It was trying to contact Naseer to apologize for leaving and finding that she’d disappeared on the mission he’d bailed on, and that Liara wouldn’t return his calls. It was discovering, when he’d finally contacted his family, that his mother was dying of an incurable disease. He wasn’t there for her, for his family, as they lost her.

He had failed in everything that mattered, lost everything that mattered, and it was killing him.

He took a deep breath, gripped his rifle, and made a dash across the room. From the wall to the couch, crouching as he moved along its length, reaching out to grab—yes, there! Food, and extra ammo, and medi-gel. He grabbed them all and dashed back to the window.

The movement seemed to have alerted the merc teams outside. They started firing again. No time to eat now; he’d grab a bite next time they stopped. He put his rifle over the edge and lined up a shot.

He wasn’t just fighting the mercs. He was fighting the thing inside, the pain and loneliness and knowledge of his failure. He would not give in. He was a turian, and however bad he was at it, _he would not give in._

After all, he’d learned from the best. Even if the best turian he’d ever met was a squishy, red-haired human.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali is finally back on the Neema, and joyous that Shepard is alive. In the meantime, Garrus records a message for Omega while Shepard goes looking for Archangel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Tali makes her first appearance! The first part of this really ought to have been at the end of the first chapter, but it didn't occur to me until after I finished Chapter One. In other words, I need to make an outline for this thing.

It took about a week for Tali's ship to get from the human colony of Freedom's Progress to the Migrant Fleet. Their mission was important, and the ship was fast, but there was the usual extra scrutiny at mass relays, the usual delays at refueling stations. All the things that came with being a quarian ship.

Some days, Tali _really_ missed being on a Spectre's ship. The Normandy had never had these kinds of problems.

Finally, however, they were back with the quarian fleet. Tali handed Veetor over to a medical crew, made sure her people got settled in, and made her way to the tiny corner that served as her quarters.

The small space was decorated with bright rugs and wall hangings (the better to reduce noise), and keepsakes from her Pilgrimage and travels since. It was barely big enough to turn around in and the keepsakes made it feel cluttered, but it was _hers._ The Neema, large as it was, felt cramped some days. Familiarly so, but the Normandy had been so spacious.

She knew she was supposed to go report in, knew her father would be calling her any minute, but she had to process Freedom's Progress. Process running into Shepard, and everything it dredged up from the depths of her mind where she'd shoved it all away. She flopped down on her bed, stared at the ceiling.

After her Pilgrimage had ended, she'd thought about the Normandy every minute. She'd compared the Neema to the Alliance frigate, both favorably and unfavorably. She'd told herself she just missed the quiet, the space. That she needed to adjust to life in the fleet again and everything would be okay.

She'd thrown herself into work, helping track down the remnants of the geth incursion, in order to gather parts for her father to study. She told herself it was just nostalgia that every time she'd come back from a mission she'd wait for a moment, linger in the docking bay, expecting a human with red hair to find her and talk to her.

She refused to admit how much she grieved the Normandy and its Commander. Grief was not productive. It did her no good, here on the Migrant Fleet.

Tali had known she had a crush on Liv Shepard two seconds after meeting the woman. Shepard was so pretty, with that red hair (so few aliens had hair) and her sparkling grey eyes, and a little bit of curve, just enough for Tali to appreciate the swing of her hips as the human walked by.

Shepard had saved Tali's life, her and Garrus Vakarian and Kaidan Alenko. It was Shepard Tali latched onto, though, because it was Shepard who made the effort. Oh, Garrus made some, but it seemed more out of being "fellow aliens" than anything else. It was Shepard who came to check on Tali all the time, Shepard who showed endless interest in the quarian way of life. It was Shepard who'd given Tali a chance, believed her, listened to her advice. Tali wanted to be like Shepard, to be that strong and loyal and brave.

She told herself it was a silly crush, that Shepard would _never_ return those feelings. For one thing, there were so many other people who were into the human; it seemed like half the ship was crushing on their Commander. Rumors swirled about Liara and Kaidan, but Tali noticed that Garrus was the one Shepard took on every mission, and Liara a close second. Rumors should've been swirling about the asari and the turian. They would've been wrong, though, regardless. Shepard didn't really seem to care about any of that. She was relentlessly focused on the mission.

Tali enjoyed every time she went with the shore party, though. Working with Shepard made her feeling like she was making a difference. Knowing Garrus was behind them, covering them with his sniper rifle, was comforting. Even just back on the Normandy she felt like she _belonged._ She wanted to savor it while it lasted. She wanted it to never end.

When Shepard and the Normandy both died, Tali avoided everyone else in their grief. She went back to the fleet and worked. She cried herself to sleep every night, curled up in a ball, soaking the inside of her helmet with tears.

By the time she decided to contact anyone from the Normandy, everyone was doing their own thing. Garrus wasn't answering messages, Liara was busy on Illium, Wrex was off on Tuchanka being important. Kaidan was doing secret work for the Alliance and everyone else had scattered. She got in touch with Engineer Adams, but it wasn't the same.

Tali had forced herself to stop thinking about the Normandy. Focused on her people. Tried not to worry about the Reapers. Someone would deal with that, right? She had the fleet to think about.

And then, out of the blue there on Freedom's Progress, Shepard appeared. Shepard was _alive._ Tali had had to push away a complex tangle of feelings and deal with the mission, but here in her quarters she could let it out.

"Shepard's alive," Tali whispered at her ceiling. Then she started to laugh and cry at the same time. "Shepard's alive!" She felt like getting up and dancing. The warmth that had spread through her on seeing the human seemed to intensify, just thinking about her.

Shepard had looked good. The scars were a bit worrying, but they added to the allure. Shepard should look battle-scarred; she seemed to fit best on a battlefield. Elsewhere the Commander could be awkward and even a bit stilted (which Tali found endearing) but in battle she was grace and beauty. And she was alive. Alive, and okay, and she'd seemed so happy to see Tali...

It suddenly occurred to Tali that maybe she ought to let the rest of the old crew know. She sat up and started tapping at her omni-tool. Garrus and Liara needed to know, especially. They'd be so happy. Tali would track them all down, get the crew back together. Shepard was surely only working for Cerberus to take them down from the inside. She'd need help.

Before Tali could get farther than pulling up an extranet search window, the communication terminal on her wall blinked to life. A male voice, sounding annoyed, said, "Tali'Zorah, you were supposed to report in two minutes ago."

Oh, _ancestors._ She'd forgotten all about her father.

"Sorry, sorry." She scrambled up off the bed. "I'm coming. Freedom's Progress was... tiring. And complicated. I'll explain everything when I get there, Dad."

"Admiral. You are an adult now, Tali'Zorah. You will call me Admiral."

Tali sighed. "Yes, D--Admiral Zorah. I am sorry. I'll be right there, Admiral. Give me... five minutes."

Ignoring anything further from the communication terminal, Tali ran out of her quarters and down the hall, ignoring the people she nearly bumped into. She was bursting with excitement. She'd ask for leave, to go back to the Normandy. Surely these Collectors were a worthy cause for her to help with. She'd get the crew back together. It would all be just like it had been.

***

Omega was like nowhere else Shepard had ever been. She'd been in some rough places, dark streets and back alleys, but that was nothing on this hollowed-out asteroid. The entire place was one big back alley, making the dark corners all the darker. She could sense a lifetime's work of _fixing_ all around her.

To her surprise, she found she could block it out. Before, she would have had trouble not wanting to solve the problems of every single person she walked by. She still felt it, felt the pain and desperation pressing on her like it had weight and substance, but bitter resentment overrode everything else. She'd _died_ for these people, to save them from a Reaper invasion, and they had no fucking clue. Nor would they care if they did. She told herself she'd save the ones she could, but she wasn't sure she believed it anymore.

Was she even Commander Shepard anymore? Should she ask people to start just calling her "Liv?" How could she be _Commander Shepard_ when she couldn't be bothered to give a fuck about the problems of the people around her?

She focused herself, blocked out her surroundings, blocked out the doubts. Focused on the mission, on her team and how they might work together. She had decided to go get Archangel first. She needed a sniper, and more tech than her current team could provide.

Once, she'd been halfway decent with an omni-tool. In addition to biotics and close-range combat, she'd been able to overheat enemy weapons. A small manifestation of her scientific interests, she supposed, or an homage to her parents, who had both been technical experts (her mother a sniper before becoming an officer, her father a navigator.) She didn't have the temperament to be a sentinel, and definitely not to be an adept, so they'd made her a vanguard back in basic. She still had that secret love of tech, though.

So she'd covered overheating weapons, Liara had been able to overload shields, and Garrus had done both as well as damping down enemy mass effect fields and improving their medi-gel. And repairing the Mako; he'd been really good at that, even if he'd grumbled at her for "bad driving." Between her and Liara they had biotics more than covered, and as for firepower--she covered short range, Garrus covered long range, and they mopped up the middle as a trio.

It had worked beautifully, back then. That was the team she'd used the most, forged in the ice of Noveria, of joining together to kill Liara's mother. The two aliens had gone to Ilos with her, rode a Mako through a mass relay, climbed the outside of the Citadel tower. She had no doubt, were they here, they'd have followed her into a gang war or plague zone without a second thought.

But they weren't, and she made do with what she had. Miranda was good, an excellent squadmate, and damn it, she _liked_ the woman. Jacob was friendly and seemed trustworthy, and Shepard would love to go drinking with him, but their skills overlapped too much.

Zaeed Massani was a godsend. When they'd first docked with Omega, Shepard had brought along Miranda and Jacob, but she hadn't been sure about the team. Jacob was redundant, maybe, she could've brought Kasumi instead, but at least she'd worked with the two Cerberus operatives before. She was still worried, though; Miranda made a decent stand-in for Liara, but none of them had long-range skill.

Zaeed had sniper rifles and ammunition that could strip shields. It was perfect, given the newfound ability to throw herself across the battlefield as if she had her own personal mass relay. So she sent Jacob back to the ship and had Massani come along.

Well, the squad was _almost_ perfect. There was still that missing tech ability, though she hoped Miranda might make up for it. And a nagging sense of _more_ missing.

She knew part of the _more_ was ship-bound rather than anything to do with the shore party. She needed people she could trust to give orders to those below them, and to give good advice to her. She needed Kaidan Alenko, really. Miranda could give orders and advice, but Miranda was Cerberus. While Shepard thought she could win the woman over, she still didn't know what the key would be. Miranda was no replacement for Alenko, but this Archangel might be. There was one more thing she'd noted in his dossier:

_"Archangel is a mercenary commander whose operations are noted for their technical expertise and strategic brilliance."_

Sniper, tech expert, and possibly a decent officer and advisor. At the very least, he would _not_ be Cerberus, and his loyalty might be more easily won.

She led the team past the line of people outside the club called Afterlife, where she was supposed to get information on Archangel. Afterlife was fascinating, and secretly made Shepard want to laugh rather loudly and obnoxiously. She'd been dead, right? And here she was, going into the Afterlife.

They walked through a dark tunnel, holographic flames all around, striding along toward the club. It was at this point a batarian decided to bother her. Or, okay, to be honest, she'd bothered him. Whatever. She walked over to him and his group of friends. She was itching for a fight.

"What are you lookin' at?" the batarian demanded, as he and his friends stood up.

Shepard brought up her pistol. "The man whose day I'm about to ruin." She was pleased to note, from the corner of her eye, that Miranda and Zaeed brought their guns up as well.

The batarian stammered, "I... I'm not looking for trouble."

"Maybe I am," Shepard replied. She was right up in his face, now. She felt a familiar thrill. She hadn't started bar fights since... since... since long before she'd become _Commander_ Shepard. Somewhere in the last stages of ICT, before earning the N7 designation? "Maybe you better get out of here before I find you some."

"Alright, alright," the batarian said, backing away. "I... I've got stuff to do anyway." He turned to his friends. "Come on! Let's get out of here."

As they walked off, Shepard dropped her gun, feeling almost let down. No violence. Nothing to take her anger out on. One of the batarians made as if to pull a weapon and she pulled out her pistol again, but he ran off.

Now she definitely felt let down.

Annoyed, she stalked on into Afterlife. Music pulsed around her, bass thrumming through her body while a snare drum flared into the background, and then floating treble almost like strings. When the melody kicked in, it was something more like a synthesizer that moved up and down the scale.

Liv Shepard could not dance, nor could she play music. But listen to music, enjoy it? That she did with prodigious near-obsession. This was music to dance to, or fuck to, or get intoxicated on a variety of substances to, and she was sure she'd recognize the artist if she heard the name; she couldn't quite place it right now. It would be wonderful for sitting in her quarters staring at the sky, _perfect_ for staring at the cosmic microwave background.

It was terrible for her current mood. It was not killing-shit music. At all.

She walked right on back toward the elevated area where Aria T'Loak held court. She had always heard you had to show strength in these sorts of places; that was part of the reason she'd bothered the batarian outside. She had to be sure Aria would respect her strength without being threatened by it. A fine line to walk, and Shepard wasn't certain she didn't just want to go into full-on bitch mode and fuck balance. She shouldn't even have to _be_ here.

She berated herself mentally. _No, Shepard. Keep it together. Focus on the mission. The Reapers are coming. No time to get on the local crime boss' bad side because you're feeling testy._

Zaeed and Miranda trailed along after her, offering up no comments as they moved through the place. It was red-lit, full of people dancing and drinking, and there were holographic flames all over.

When she was younger Shepard had read all the religious texts she could get her hands on, to try to round out the general "God exists" feeling she'd always had--the feeling she got staring at stars going by while a ship moved at FTL speeds. She'd settled on Christianity more out of family tradition than anything else; nothing quite made sense except maybe the _siarist_ asari beliefs, but even that not quite.

Some part of her still paid at least token service to being Christian, and that part of her recognized the atmosphere as suitable. As Hell. Because that's where she was, cut off from her crew and her squad, cut off from the Alliance. She had died, she had been judged and found wanting, and she was in Hell.

It was a stupid, foolish, outdated sentiment. It felt entirely true.

She led them up a flight of stairs, around until she ascended a platform that overlooked the lower floor. An asari stood there, surrounded by batarian and turian guards, dressed in white-and-red leather. She practically exuded _badass._ Shepard was suitably impressed.

There was some posturing with the guards and though Shepard tried very hard to start a fight, Aria kept things from escalating. The woman had an enormous ego, but Shepard's instincts told her the attitude was well-founded. She did her best to tread carefully despite how badly she wanted to fight something, anything. Aria's words that "that could be anyone wearing your face" cut so deeply that Shepard couldn't help being sarcastic and belligerent. Aria didn't seem to mind the attitude; or at least, as she put it, "Omega doesn't really care about you."

It was humbling, and Shepard figured it was good to remember that for all her fame and importance, the galaxy had been around long before she had. Plenty of its citizens would still be alive long after she was dead.

Once she knew where to find Archangel, Shepard spent some more time trying to get information out of Aria, to no avail. The woman played things close to the chest; not that Shepard could blame her. Finally the marine gave up, said her goodbyes, and left.

She still felt let down, but at least Archangel had gotten himself into trouble. Her mood had brightened somewhat. There was a fight to be had, and she had a sniper to recruit.

***

Garrus found his aim wavering for a moment as another band of mercenaries came across the bridge. He pulled in his focus, breathed in, exhaled. The familiar ritual stilled his arms, stilled his scope. Center mass on the target, compensate for recoil, exhale, and... pull the trigger.

The merc crumpled. Garrus reached for a thermal clip, pulled up his gun, reloaded with a smooth motion. This time, when he looked back over the window sill, he tapped at his omni-tool to overload the shields of the next merc coming across the bridge. There was a crackle and the merc's kinetic barrier shorted out, his hardsuit's emitters briefly overwhelmed.

Slow breath in, center mass, slow breath out. Single shot, while the target's shields were down. Blood spatter, and another merc crumpled to the ground.

It was a familiar routine, and the steady nature of it kept him going. Once, long ago, he'd spent countless hours in this sort of ritual. Aim, fire, reload, aim fire, reload. His father had been determined he would be a great sniper, and Garrus hadn't been allowed a break. No food, no sleep, no rest at all until he improved.

At the time, he'd been resentful. Now, he was grateful. There were so many distractions: the hunger, the exhaustion, the gnawing emotional pain that made him want to simultaneously tear things apart and curl up in a ball. The ability to block them all out was the only thing keeping him alive.

He'd eaten, but that was... hours ago. There were still plenty of rations within reach, but he didn't have time to stop and eat right now. He couldn't let one merc get across that bridge. He wondered idly how many he'd killed, thought about bringing up the count on his visor.

It didn't matter. He'd killed so many, but he hadn't killed enough. Omega was as corrupt as ever, just as full of horrible people doing horrible things as the day he'd arrived. He hadn't even made a dent. What had the point been?

The mercs stopped coming. He waited for about five minutes, feeling sleep trying to roll over him. He resisted the urge to even close his eyes, but grabbed a food bar and began to eat. Food would keep him awake.

Another five minutes went by. Nothing. He peered out of his "nest," tried to make out what was going on past the barricade.

Something told him they were preparing a big push, and he knew he might not make it. He also knew that once he was dead the gangs would say anything they liked about him, make him out to be... what? A killer and a criminal, like them?

No. He wouldn't let that happen. Even if he was going to die, he wouldn't let them win.

He tapped at his omni-tool, setting it to record a message, to be broadcast across Omega as soon as his lifesigns cut out. The people of Omega would know the truth about Archangel.

He began to speak, to tell them who he really was. Tell them why he was here, what his mission had been. He found himself rambling about his father, about Shepard. About not being there for his mother. About duty, and justice. About trying to make a difference.

It felt like something dark poured out through his words and into the omni-tool, leaving him feeling lighter than he had in weeks.

He said he was sorry. Sorry he'd failed them. Sorry he didn't clean up Omega like he'd wanted to.

"I'm not sure I deserve the title 'Archangel,'" he said. "But I've tried to live up to it. I hope I did a good enough job. Remember, when they try to make me out to be something I'm not. Remember that it doesn't have to be this way."

He shut off the recording and leaned against the wall again, eating some more.

He was going to die. He'd known that for a while, but now, he was finally at peace with it. There was just one more thing to be done.

***

Getting into the merc base--such as it was--had been easy. Shepard and her people were obviously well-armed and armored. Once she'd dealt with the batarian recruiter's idiotic commentary about her gender--what the hell, did batarian women not go into battle or something?--and Zaeed and spoken up, it had all been smooth sailing.

Well, except for stopping that kid from coming on the mission. Fifty credits for a pistol? She'd done him a _favor,_ breaking the thing. It probably would've overheated the second he tried to use it.

They wandered around the base, talking to people, finding out what they could about the various gangs teamed up here. Shepard made mental notes of their plans, of what she could make out of their strengths and weaknesses. They even sabotaged a few things along the way, hopefully making it easier to help Archangel when the time came.

The plan was a decent one as it went. Distract Archangel, keep his attention on the bridge, while another team went in behind. Shepard figured they'd do better if they attacked all at once instead of going in three groups, but she wasn't about to suggest that. She'd prefer distinct waves to deal with once they were inside.

At one point, as she walked past a barricade between the Eclipse and Blood Pack "areas," there was a single shot off to her left and a vorcha suddenly dropped off the barricade.

She looked over, judging the angle and how far Archangel had to shoot. The vorcha had barely been visible over the barricade.

"Impressive," Zaeed said, voicing her sentiments aloud as he, too, eyed the angles.

Zaeed's presence had turned out to be a boon. He was a known quantity--he'd evidently worked with the Blue Suns long ago--and he knew several of the key players. He was especially useful when talking to his former gangmates; Shepard wasn't certain they'd have gotten all the information they had without Zaeed there.

Miranda was quiet, following along following orders. Shepard was, however, certain she was filing everything away for her report to the Illusive Man.

So maybe it was showing off a little, when she tasered the batarian mechanic. They really couldn't afford to have him fixing the gunship, could they? She imagined what Miranda would put in the report: "Shepard is resourceful and likes to win fights before they begin" or "Shepard is unpredictable and hard to control; re-visit the idea of a control chip in her brain." Maybe both.

When it came time to head across the bridge, Shepard made sure they hung back a little, let the other team go ahead. Once they were in the middle of the bridge she gave the order to Miranda and Zaeed to open fire.

She bit back an oath as a round suddenly took her in the shoulder. In the _bad_ shoulder, the one that hadn't healed properly. And then confusion set in--had Archangel _missed?_ She ought to be dead, if he'd shot her. Was he as good as the dossier said?

No time to worry about that. She decided to cut short her exposure on the bridge and throw herself forward. The world blurred, _she_ blurred, and the force of her biotic charge slammed her into the mercs in front of her. They were still reacting with confusion to shots coming from _behind_ them, and at her charge they fell back. She unloaded her shotgun into the group, bits of firey pellets spraying them, lighting their armor on fire.

God, that felt _good._ Whatever Cerberus had done to upgrade her, she was _loving_ this part of it. How had she ever managed as a vanguard without that charging thing?

Miranda and Zaeed ran up behind her. They were inside the base. Time to go find Archangel.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tali and Garrus both have talks with their fathers, and Shepard finally meets Archangel.

There was one last thing for Garrus to do as the mercs’ final charge began. Even as he was lining up his first shot, he made a call on his omni-tool.

"Garrus?" His father’s voice was welcome, bolstering. "What’s going on?"

"I just…" Garrus cleared his throat. "I just wanted to say I’m sorry, Dad."

"Sorry? For what?"

Garrus paused a moment, let out a breath, took a shot. “You were right. All those times you told me I should do the right thing, even if it was tough… I should have listened.”

There was silence on both ends of the call for a moment, broken by the crack of another shot from Garrus’ rifle.

"What’s going on, Garrus?" his father said finally.

"Just some… target practice," Garrus said, somehow unable to explain the situation. "I’m sorry I’m not there for Mom, too."

A brief pause, then, “It’s alright, Garrus. You just finish up your target practice and come back to Palaven. We’ll talk, we’ll sort everything out.”

His father knew what was going on, or had some inkling. He’d been one of the best investigators C-Sec ever had, and he knew his son. Garrus shook his head and then took down another merc.

"I’d love to, Dad, but I…" He trailed off as something caught his eye. The next merc in the scope was a human woman in dark armor. He had been aiming for center mass and caught sight of the emblem high on her chest: "N7" in white and red.

Blood suddenly pounded in his ears. It couldn’t be. _It couldn’t be._ She was dead, gone. But there was an N7, coming across the bridge.

It might not be her. It could be another N7. And if it was… his heart sank. If it was, he wasn’t sure he could hold out. Not against that. Could he even kill someone wearing that emblem? _Her_ emblem?

All debate about whether he could kill her ended when the N7’s comrades opened fire on the team of mercs ahead of him. They were here to help. He knew it.

_Spirits, let that be her._ He had never wished for anything so fervently in his life.

"Garrus?" He realized he was still on the call with his father.

She wasn’t moving fast enough, whoever she was. He loaded up a concussive round, took careful aim. Hit the shoulder, with a round likely to just bounce off the shields. Get her moving.

"Tell Mom and Solana I love them," he said, "and I’ll be home when I can." He grinned, feeling hope for the first time in a long while.

"The odds just got a lot better."

***

"So do you care to explain why I have been waiting for twenty minutes for you to report, Tali’Zorah?"

Tali stood in front of her father’s desk in the small room that served as his office. She shifted her feet a little, nervous as ever that her father would see right through her and know that the real answer was ‘daydreaming about a woman I have a massive crush on.’

She cleared her throat. “I am sorry, Admiral. The mission to Freedom’s Progress was… eventful.”

"Yes, I read the report you sent ahead." Rael’Zorah looked down at a holographic datapad on his tiny desk. "An entire human colony, taken by… Collectors? Commander Shepard, supposedly alive?" He shook his head. "At least you brought Veetor back."

Tali blinked rapidly. “It _was_ Commander Shepard, Admiral. I’m sure of it.”

"Mmm. Yes, well. Unfortunately, there was little of use to us in the data collected. Aside from bringing Veetor back, the mission was a waste of time and quarian lives." He sighed heavily, started tapping at his omni-tool. "I’ll strike human colonies from the list," he said to himself. "The dark energy readings at any of them will likely just be the Collectors."

Tali frowned. “Isn’t it a… problem that the Collectors are taking human colonies?”

Rael’Zorah looked up. “I feel badly for the humans, Tali’Zorah, but it is _their_ problem. If Commander Shepard truly is alive, as you say, I am sure she’s taking care of it.” He went back to the omni-tool.

Tali shifted a bit. She’d been thinking about the Normandy ever since she’d seen Shepard, but now that she was at the point of asking she was terribly nervous. She took a breath and braced herself.

"D—Admiral Zorah. I… have a request."

Her father didn’t look up. “Hmm? What’s that?”

"I…" Tali rushed ahead. Better to get it out fast. "I was thinking that maybe I could return to the Normandy. Shepard is likely to run into geth out there, and… I could find plenty of parts to send back for your project, I’m sure…"

By now her father was looking at her, and not for the first time Tali wished their faceplates weren’t so opaque so she could read his expression. “You want to leave the fleet?” His tone was even, but there was a hint of disappointment.

"Not permanently!" Tali said hastily. "I just thought… I learned so much while I was on my Pilgrimage, it would be a good opportunity… to…" She trailed off.

Her father was shaking his head already. “The Admiralty Board has another mission for you, and it’s highly important.” His voice was firm, now, a tone Tali knew would be useless to argue with. “We cannot spare you to the Normandy, no matter how much you might… learn there.”

Tali sighed. “Of course.” She paused a moment. “Can I at least know what all these missions are about? What is it about dark energy that has the Admiralty Board so nervous?”

Rael’Zorah sighed as well. “I can’t tell you that. Not yet. Soon, maybe.” He looked at her for a moment longer and then added, “Someday, when you are higher-ranking—a Captain or an Admiral yourself—you will understand. There are secrets we keep for the good of the fleet.”

Tali suppressed a gasp. He’d never so casually spoken about her having high rank someday. She thought she might swell up with pride; a smile certainly spread on her face. But she kept her tone level and said, “Of course, Admiral. Is there anything else?”

"No. You may go, Tali’Zorah."

Tali turned to go. She had people to contact about Shepard.

Suddenly her father said, “Wait, Tali.”

She turned back. “What is it?”

He hesitated a moment, then said, “I have never been certain about that human, Tali. Her… suitableness for you. I will admit I was somewhat relieved when you returned from your Pilgrimage, given the… tone of your letters home. But if you feel your place is with her…” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps, after these missions are over, you could go back to the Normandy. But only if you are sure. I do not want to see you hurt chasing someone who does not return your… intentions.”

A flush grew in Tali’s cheeks. How had her father known? Had someone else pointed it out? Auntie Raan, perhaps? Or had he really seen through her like she’d worried? She was never certain if her father was paying attention or not.

All she said aloud was, “Thank you, Dad. I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I don’t have any ‘intentions.’ Shepard is just a friend. Truly.”

"Mmm." Tali could feel her father’s gaze through the helmet, could tell he didn’t believe her. "If you insist. Go rest, Tali’Zorah. I will bring you up to date on the mission in the morning."

All the way back to her quarters, Tali tried to keep her feet on the ground. She might actually go back to the Normandy! All she had to do was deal with one more mission first. How hard could that be?

***

The lower part of Archangel’s base was essentially a large, rather nice apartment. Shepard might have enjoyed relaxing on the couches, investigating the nooks and crannies. But there were bodies everywhere, and not all of them in the armor of the merc squads charging the place.

She mopped up the last of the team that had come across with her and fought her way upstairs, past the last of the mercs on this side of the bridge.

As she approached the door she pulled off her helmet to make it easier to reason with him. It would make her seem more trustworthy, showing who she was, showing her face. Nonetheless, as she door opened she kept her gun out, just in case. Archangel was an unknown quantity.

She found him still pointing his rifle out the window. He was clearly a turian—she’d guess that from glimpses seen through the window, but hadn’t been certain. He wore heavy armor almost the same shade of blue C-Sec wore. It tugged at her, that and a dozen other little things. It made her wonder where Garrus was.

Looking at him, she decided on a gut feeling that she could trust him not to shoot her again. She lowered her gun.

"Archangel?" Not that there was much doubt, but best to be sure.

The turian stiffened at the sound of her voice, but did not turn toward her. Instead he kept facing out the window, aiming at the mercs below. One peeked around a corner for a moment and there was a sharp crack, then a groan as the merc died. Finally, then, he turned away from the window.

Shepard watched the turian lean on his rifle as he pushed himself up. How long had he been here? She could see spent thermal clips, rations, medi-gel packs, scattered around where he’d been kneeling.

Archangel moved to sit down on the edge of his sniper perch, pulling off his helmet as he did so. She recognized the platinum plates, the blue facial markings, those eyes like a morning sky.

Relief flooded Shepard’s mind and body. _Garrus._ For some reason, she suddenly found herself wanting to call up Tali, tell her he was okay.

"Shepard," he said, looking at her like… like he’d never seen anything so wonderful. Like there were whole worlds of pain in seeing her. And his tone… could her dying have hurt him _that_ much?

"I thought you were dead," he continued. Turian faces didn’t give away much emotion, but Shepard had been around aliens all her life. Pain and relief was etched there, and if he’d been a human, by his tone she’d have said he was seeing a long-lost lover, returned to him.

The implications of that only registered in her subconscious, though. She was so happy to see a familiar face, to know that he was okay, that she found herself smiling. She opened her arms, took a step forward, wanting on instinct to go hug him. “Garrus! What’re you doing here?”

The hug didn’t happen. She might’s dropped all reserve and pretense and hugged him if not for the presence of Operative Lawson and Zaeed “I’m a motherfucking badass” Massani. And turians weren’t big on public displays of affection during a mission.

Besides, it wasn’t like they’d ever hugged before. They’d hardly even touched each other.

"Just keeping my skills sharp," Garrus replied. "A little target practice."

With the initial flood of _oh thank God I’m not alone anymore_ ebbing away, Shepard could read what she saw in his face more easily. The bright-eyed idealist was still there somewhere, she was sure, but darkened and buried. He looked like she felt: tired, worn, and until moments ago certain he’d been alone in the galaxy.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Been better, but it sure is good to see a friendly face." Ahh, yes, Garrus and his understatement. She’d missed that. "Killing mercs is hard work. Especially on my own." There was a flash of pain in his eyes, there.

A thousand questions bubbled up in Shepard’s mind, and she voiced the first that came into coherent thought: “Since when did you start calling yourself Archangel?”

"It’s just a name the locals gave me. For… all my good deeds." He seemed vaguely amused. He coughed, and continued, "I don’t mind it, but please, it’s… ahem… just Garrus to you."

"What’re you doing out here on Omega?"

"I got fed up with all the bureaucratic crap on the Citadel. Figured I could do more good on my own." There was an undercurrent of a much longer story in his tone. "At least it’s not hard to find criminals here. All I have to do is point my gun and shoot."

The longer they talked, the more down he seemed. Shepard thought of a question that might cheer him up a bit. “How’d you manage to piss off every major merc organization in the Terminus Systems?” She grinned. She really did find it impressive.

"It wasn’t easy. I _really_ hard to work at it.” He sounded more amused now. “I _am_ amazed that they teamed up to fight me. They must _really_ hate me.”

Shepard snorted, and then rolled her neck. “You nailed me good a couple times, by the way.”

Garrus glanced aside, as if hiding a reaction. “Concussive rounds only. No harm done. Didn’t want the mercs getting suspicious.” He looked at her finally, blue eyes sparkling just a bit, the way they used to when he was letting her in on a joke.

Shepard just looked at him. “Uh-huh.”

"If I wanted to do more than take your shields down, I’d have done it." He said that with complete confidence. Looked aside again, kept his tone light, "Besides, you were taking your sweet time. I needed to get you moving."

The turian’s gaze, when he looked at her again, had intensified. Shepard decided further questions could wait; the mercs weren’t going to sit around forever. She didn’t quite admit to herself that the intensity of his eyes was a little unnerving. “Well, we got here,” she said. “But I don’t think getting out will be as easy.”

Garrus started to climb down off the sniper perch. “No, it won’t. That bridge has saved my life, funneling all those witless idiots into scope. But, it works both ways. They’ll slaughter us if we try to get out that way.” He seemed glad of the chance to focus, make a plan.

Miranda and Zaeed had simply watched the pair’s reunion, but Miranda now protested, “We can’t just sit here and wait for them to come to us.”

"It’s not all that bad." Garrus started to walk toward the window. "This place has held them off so far. And, with the three of you…" He stopped halfway across the room, turned to look at them. "I suggest we hold this location, wait for a crack in their defenses, take our chances. It’s not a perfect plan… but it’s a plan."

Shepard had followed Garrus. Now she stood next to him as they looked at each other. He sounded more confident in his tactical knowledge than he once had, despite the situation, and the next question popped out before she could really think about it.

"How’d you let yourself get into this position?"

There was the briefest of hesitations. “My feelings got in the way of my better judgement.” Garrus looked down at his rifle, checking the scope. “It’s a long story.” He looked back up. “I’ll make you a deal. You get me out of here alive, and I’ll tell you the whole damn thing.”

Shepard smiled. “I didn’t liked sneaking anyway. Time to spill a little merc blood.”

"Glad to see you haven’t changed," Garrus said dryly. He turned to walk all the way to the window. "Let’s see what they’re up to."

As Shepard came up next to him, Garrus lifted his rifle and looked out through the scope.

"Hmm. Looks like they know their infiltration team failed." He handed the rifle over. "Take a look."

Shepard managed to suppress any outward reaction, but inwardly she was stunned. Garrus was so careful with his rifles, always tinkering with them, cleaning each carefully after every mission. For him to just hand one over to her without a word was… surprising, to say the least. So she was careful as she lifted the rifle, peered down the scope.

"Scouts," Garrus noted. "Eclipse, I think."

Shepard zoomed in on a mech just coming over the barricade 150 meters away. The scope focused for a moment on something nearer, then on the mech properly. Shepard rarely used a sniper rifle but she’d been trained with all sorts of weapons, and besides, she could’ve inherited some skill from her mother. Maybe. Anyway, how hard was “point and shoot?”

Nevertheless, she was actually a little surprised when she managed to take the mech’s head off. Well, it was _Garrus’_ gun, surely it was highly upgraded.

"More than scouts," she said as she lowered the rifle. She handed it back over. "One less now, though."

Garrus checked the gun as she handed it back, then looked out the window. “Indeed.” It seemed like he was deliberately not looking at her. “We’d better get ready. I’ll stay up here. I can do a lot of damage from this vantage point. You…” He finally looked at her again. “You can do what you do best. Just like old times, Shepard.”

Shepard grinned in response and moved off to prepare to do ‘what she did best.’ Which was, generally, killing things at close range.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus finally has help as the rest of the mercs attack his base, but an unexpected development could mean a permanent change to the turian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We see Shepard’s POV on this through the game; I thought seeing Garrus’ POV would be interesting. We don’t see Tali much in this chapter, but I haven’t forgotten about her. It’s more Shakarian than Shakarizorah, but don’t worry—we’ll see our favorite quarian again next chapter!

Garrus had a lot to push away as he settled back into his perch. He just kept thinking, _she’s alive, she’s alive, Shepard is alive._ The idea that it somehow wasn’t her he didn’t even entertain. She looked right, sounded right, said the right things, smiled the right way. She _smelled_ right—sweet, as any levo creature would to him, not quite sharp enough to be musky, something that reminded him of the tropical flowers that grew near his childhood home.

And beyond all that, there was just this sort of ineffable _Shepard-ness_ he would have known anywhere. Just having her there gave him confidence, boosted his morale. So much of his weary resignation had melted away that he felt like he’d had all the sleep he’d been missing. Oh, he’d pay for it later, but even just getting help was a relief. That it was Shepard made it all the better.

He was glad of the excuse to stay up in his perch and focus on shooting things coming across the bridge. When she’d shot the head right off that mech at over 100 meters… he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anything so damn _sexy._ He didn’t really need these strangers seeing the way she made his mandibles flutter.

Everything he’d realized after Shepard had died was only confirmed by her presence. He loved her, he was sure of it, and he felt a sudden nervous tension—what if she didn’t return his feelings? What if she rebuffed him the same way she had Liara?

He thought he felt a tension between them, and she’d certainly seemed happy to see him, but he could be misreading her. Humans were so odd, so different. Was she just happy to see a friend? Was he confusing her love of battle with attraction to him? Turians found battle arousing, sometimes—humans probably didn’t, so did that make him more or less likely to misread her intentions?

Garrus pushed it all away. He couldn’t focus on that, right now. He loved her, but they had to get out of here before he could even begin to start examining whether she would even remotely entertain the notion of a relationship. It was something they could figure out back on her ship.

The idea that he wouldn’t be joining her crew was foreign. Of course he was joining her crew. Why else was she here?

Eclipse was on its way, mechs first. He focused on one at a time, taking off the mechs’ heads calmly. It was harder to do than aiming for center mass, but he liked the challenge, and the feeling of accomplishment.

He regretted, just a little, not being able to watch Shepard in action. She was beautiful on the battlefield, perfect in form, like the embodiment of some warrior spirit. He wasn’t sure the spirits really did exist, but Shepard… if anything could make him believe, Shepard could.

Actual Eclipse mercs came through, and Garrus noted that many shields were dropped without his doing it, that quite a few were on fire. Shepard’s squad, he was sure. He had to wonder, about these new people Shepard had brought along. Who where they? People she trusted, if she’d brought them with her, and he thought he _might_ have recognized the male human. But neither of them were in Alliance uniform. So what was going on?

He took down the last Eclipse merc in the wave with a hit to the shoulder. A salarian came striding up to the barricade—Jaroth, finally showing his face. Garrus was looking forward to killing the criminal, but he didn’t have a good shot. He took the chance to reload.

A large YMIR mech was brought out and dropped down onto the bridge. “Damn it, they’re sending out the heavy mechs,” he muttered to himself, not really remembering he had company now.

It was actually a surprise when a reply came over the comm: “Don’t worry. That problem should take care of itself.” Shepard sounded smug.

Garrus noted an odd shimmering around the mech’s form and grinned to himself. The thing had been sabotaged. Shepard always was going on about winning battles before they started. More proof that it was really her.

The following fight was damn easy. The YMIR mech took down half the smaller LOKI mechs on its own before it finally exploded. He heard a whoop and a laugh from below and took deep breaths to slow his heart rate down. Shepard’s laugh had suddenly sent it racing.

Was this really what love was like? Constant distractions and noticing every tiny thing someone did? Worry tangling up your thoughts during a mission? How did anyone get any work done when they were in love?

"Heads up," he called to Shepard, on purpose this time. It hadn’t been _that_ long since he’d been with a squad. “They’re deploying snipers.” He could see them through the scope, and he was worried about the vanguard. She had the good sense to stay inside the base, but they still might manage to tag her from there.

The snipers fell one by one, but some of the made it across the bridge. He could hear gunfire below and it frustrated Garrus that he had no idea what was going on with Shepard. But he focused on his job, shooting one after another, and… there, in scope. Jaroth! That bastard! His shields were down, presumably overloaded by one of Shepard’s people.

It was an easy thing to aim, breathe out, fire. The salarian’s body hit the bridge. And good riddance, too.

"Looks like that’s all of them," he said into the comm. "Come find me before they regroup."

With Eclipse gone, Shepard came back upstairs. Garrus went to sit on his perch again as she came up. Her squad was arrayed before him, Shepard in front, the other two flanking her a little behind. Talking to her like this almost felt like having eavesdroppers, or maybe bodyguards, privy to the conversation. Was that how other people felt when talking to Shepard with her squad there? She usually did all the talking.

Garrus didn’t waste time. “You’re kicking ass, Shepard. They barely touched me. And we got Jaroth in the process. I’ve been hunting that little bastard for months.”

"Why were you after him?" Shepard asked.

"He’s been shipping tainted eezo all over Citadel space. Half the goods I seized back at C-Sec came from his team here on Omega. I took out a big shipment a while back and killed his top lieutenant in the process." Garrus rolled his neck a bit. "Not surprised he decided to work with the other mercs after that."

"We’ve stilled got Blood Pack and Blue Suns left. Think we can make a break for it?" There was a little less blind confidence in Shepard’s tone than there’d once been—or maybe a little more trust in his opinion. It was hard to tell.

"Maybe," Garrus replied. He turned to walk to the window. "Let’s see what they’re up to." _And thank the spirits she’s being so professional,_ he thought. The vids made it seem like humans wanted to talk about their feelings even in the middle of battle, but either the vids were wrong or Shepard was good at putting things aside to get the mission done.

His visor gave him enough information as he looked out the window. “They’ve reinforced the other side. Heavily. But they’re not coming over the bridge yet. What are they waiting for…?”

His question was answered even as he finished voicing it, by the low rumble of an explosion. The room shook a little. An alarm sounded further down in the base and he turned that away.

The other woman (Shepard hadn’t introduced them, which struck him as odd) said, “What the hell was that?”

Garrus checked his omni-tool. A quick scan of the network he’d set up gave him information that made him stomach twist. “Damn it. They’ve breached the lower level. Well, they had to use their brains eventually.”

His breathing sped up, though he wasn’t consciously aware of it. “You’d better get down there, Shepard. I’ll keep the bridge clear.” He’d handled this alone so far. He could be on his own a little longer.

"Let’s split up two and two. Keep one of my team here." Shepard sounded worried.

"You sure?" Garrus tried to keep his own worry out of his voice. "Who knows what you’ll find down there."

Shepard looked over her shoulder. “Zaeed, stay with Garrus. Keep him alive.” There was no arguing with her when she gave orders in that tone.

The grizzled human man said, “Roger that.” Garrus hadn’t heard him speak yet; his voice sounded almost as gravelly as a turian’s. The name tugged at his memory. Garrus was _sure_ he knew the man from somewhere. It was something to worry about later, though.

"Thanks, Shepard." He meant it sincerely. He would be glad of the help. "You’d better get going."

"How do I get to the basement?" she asked.

"Go down a level." Garrus gestured, his urgency and panic coming through his voice however he tried to hold it in. "The basement door’s on the west side of the main room, behind the stairs. I’ll radio directions if you need help, but you’ve got to get down there quick. Good luck."

Garrus and Zaeed set up in the window while Shepard and the woman headed downstairs. He distracted himself from his worry by looking over Zaeed’s loadout. The other man carried an M-92 Mantis, Garrus noted. A decent gun, though he preferred the M-97 Viper, himself. Slightly faster rate of fire, more effective against kinetic barriers. He’d lost his Viper during an ambush, though, and had fallen back on his own heavily modified Mantis.

Garrus noticed that Zaeed was looking at his own gun; the human nodded to show his approval of the turian’s choice of weapon, then settled himself into position next to the window.

Garrus settled himself back into his perch and called down to Shepard, “Get to the console and close that shutter before they can get through!” He knew the Blood Pack would be coming in through the garage and the lower access tunnels. It had all been pretty well-sealed, but the explosion had surely opened things up.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m on it. Keep your helmet on." Shepard’s tone was light, but he could tell she was taking things seriously. She had a tendency to banter in tense situations. It sounded like she was out of breath; she’d probably been running.

His omni-tool alerted him that the main access to the lower part of the base had been sealed. “There’s two more shutters,” he told Shepard. “Get them closed fast.”

"On it," Shepard replied. Garrus couldn’t tell how she was from her tone—not injured, probably. It had happened so fast, she must be fine. He told himself not to worry, but wished there was something to shoot at just to keep him distracted.

As if in response to his wish he noted mercs coming across the bridge, probably to keep him distracted from what was going on below. “Here they come,” he informed Shepard. “There’s not too many… yet.” He began to take them out in an easy rhythm, grateful for the help from Zaeed. The human was a good sniper, and between them they kept the mercs from crossing the bridge.

A couple of minutes passed, and there was no alert on his omni-tool. No word from Shepard. He knew the garage was large; maybe she wasn’t sure where to go. “Find the large shutters and seal them,” he said into his comm.

No response.

Garrus took a deep breath. She was fine. She was Commander Shepard, wasn’t she? And that human woman with her looked competent. She’d be fine.

More mercs appeared, and Garrus was grateful for the distraction. More time passed and _still_ no word from Shepard. Just when he was about to call down to her again, his omni-tool alerted him. The garage shutter was secured.

He had been taking fire, and so had Zaeed. There were a lot more Blood Pack pushing across the bridge, a mix of krogan and vorcha. Worry for Shepard became mixed with worry for himself; would the mercs manage to get across while Shepard was still downstairs?

"Just one more shutter," he called. "Hurry!"

"I’m _on_ it, Vakarian!” No more light banter; Shepard sounded annoyed, and her voice had the odd overtone it usually got when she’d recently applied medi-gel.

Garrus told himself not to worry again and focused on a krogan in scope. Aim, deep breath out, fire. Steady rhythm. Discipline. Everything was going to be fine.

Zaeed grunted as a barrage of merc bullets hit him. “Taking some fire, Shepard,” he said. “Time to get those damn shutters closed.”

There was, again, no response from the other end.

It didn’t take nearly so long for Shepard to get the last shutter closed as it had the second, but by that time the Blood Pack had made it across the bridge. Garrus went over to the half-wall that overlooked the floor below. Someone was trying to burn through one of the doors from the other side.

"Get back here, Shepard. They’re coming in through the doors." He took aim at a vorcha, fired—and then saw Garm, the krogan leader of Omega’s Blood Pack.

"Watch my back," the krogan growled. "I’ll deal with Archangel."

Garrus fired off another shot at one of his vorcha minions. He couldn’t get a clear shot at Garm with them in the way. The krogan turned to look up at Garrus—and another one of the vorcha went down in flames. Shepard and the human woman had come back.

"Watch the krogan!" Garrus called, though he already felt better. He was preparing to aim at another vorcha when there was a sudden blur across the room below. Shepard appeared out of the blur rather suddenly, slamming into the vorcha and knocking him over. A couple of rounds from her shotgun and the vorcha was dead.

Spirits. When had she learned to do _that?_

The mercs opened fire on Shepard but she was already retreating, ducking into cover behind a couch. Garrus shook off his amazement and focused on gunning down the Blood Pack nearest Shepard.

Garm was making for the stairs. Garrus shifted his focus to fire at them steadily, trying to keep them from getting to the room he was in. Garm had a personal dislike of him, and he really didn’t want to face the krogan head-on. He kept seeing the blur and then Shepard materializing from it, spraying the krogan with firey shotgun pellets, moving back, blurring into them again.

She managed to pull Garm’s henchman away from him, but the krogan were hard for even Shepard’s new tactic to bring down quickly. Garm got into the room and Garrus ducked into cover.

"Garm’s got me pinned down," he called as he overloaded the last of Garm’s kinetic barrier.

He kept firing, trying to get through the krogan’s armor as Garm prepared to charge. Then there was a familiar sight: the shimmer of a biotic field, warping the armor. It wasn’t from Shepard—she was nowhere he could see. The other was there behind Garm, following her warp field with a barrage of bullets from a machine pistol. Zaeed, too, focused his fire on Garm, and between them they brought the krogan down.

His visor told him none of the Blood Pack were left. Shepard had probably mopped up the ones downstairs.

"They’ve stopped," he informed her. "Come find me."

Shepard came in the door and her squad fell in behind her. Garrus felt relief again, that she was okay and they’d made it through another wave.

"Thanks, Shepard," he said. "They hardly got through to me. And we took out Garm and his Blood Pack. This day just gets better and better. He was one tough son of a bitch."

"You’ve fought with him before?" Shepard asked.

"Yeah, we tangled once. Caught him alone, none of his gang to help him." Garrus could remember it like it had just happened yesterday. "I still couldn’t take him out. I’ve never seen a krogan regen that fast. He’s a freak of nature. He just kept at it until his vorcha showed up. It was close, but I had to let him go. Not this time." He felt a warm satisfaction at the number of criminals they’d taken down this day. Maybe Omega would be a little safer, after all this.

"Only the Blue Suns are left," Shepard said. "I say we take our chances and fight our way out."

"I think you’re right," Garrus replied. "Tarak’s got the toughest group, but nothing we haven’t faced before. Besides, he won’t be expecting us to meet him head on—"

Garrus caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and was able to get down before the gunship’s weapons broke the glass of the back window. He was relieved to see the others diving for cover as well.

"Damn it! I thought I took that thing out already!" Garrus hadn’t counted on Tarak having his gunship. How were they going to get out without major injuries?

"They fixed it, but not completely," Shepard replied from behind him. "I made sure of that."

"They’re offloading troops!" Garrus said as his visor informed him of targets coming into the base. "Watch your back, Shepard!" They’d come too far for either of them to fall now. There was so much he needed to say to her.

He pushed that away, focused on the troops in the room. He was standing in his sniper perch; the gunship had disappeared, and there were only Blue Suns mercs to fight for now. Zaeed had switch to an assault rifle, and the human woman was overloading shields and using biotics. A sentinel, like Kaidan?

As for Shepard, she focused on her pistol and biotics until an enemy was isolated enough that she’d blur across the room to take it down. Garrus tried not to be distracted by how oddly graceful the movement was.

They took out the last of the troops and Garrus’ visor gave him more information. “They’re rappelling down the side wall,” he said as he cross the room again to overlook the inside of the base. “Ground floor!”

Shepard moved immediately, running for the stairs, her squad following. Garrus covered her with sniper fire. He was beginning to feel more hopeful. They still had medi-gel, they were working together. He even found himself making comments while he fired.

"Scratch one!" he called as a merc died. It really did feel good to kill Blue Suns.

His levity was dampened as he noticed Shepard’s kinetic barrier short out, but then she blurred again and he could see the purplish glow around her as the barrier came back up. So that blurring thing brought her barrier back up. That made him worry a little less.

The mercs were down, and Garrus began to move across the room again, wary. Where was the gunship?

"Archangel!" It was Tarak’s voice, from behind him. Garrus turned, and saw the gunship in the window.

Instinct kicked in. He started for cover, but the gunship opened fire. His shields went down and he fell to the floor while Tarak shouted, “You think you can screw with the Blue Suns?”

He made it behind a planter. He’d be alright. He took a breath, peered around the corner of the planter—and saw the gunship’s rocket preparing to fire. The planter wouldn’t stand up to that.

"This ends now!" Tarak always had been melodramatic.

Garrus started to move, to head for the couch and avoid the rocket. There was an impact, a flare of pain in his face and his chest… and then not much pain at all. An odd ringing in his right ear, though. _Shock,_ he thought. _Enough damage that you can’t even feel the pain. This is bad._

"Garrus!" It was Shepard’s voice, though he could only hear it through one ear; the right just rang still. She sounded worried. Garrus could vaguely see her, behind the couch, staring at him with very wide eyes.

He wanted to tell her he’d be alright. He didn’t hurt. And she was there, right? How many times had he gone down and she’d applied medi-gel… except that their hardsuits weren’t networked, now. She couldn’t activate the medi-gel in his suit, and he couldn’t move to get it himself.

Maybe he was going to die after all.

Consciousness wavered. He could vaguely hear the drone of the gunship’s weapons, the _bwoom_ of biotics, the steady fire of Shepard’s squad. He had to stay awake. He was pretty sure he had a concussion, and he could hardly think, but he had to stay awake. Had to stay alive. He had things he had to tell Shepard.

Breathing became difficult. He couldn’t tell what was going on, and he slipped in and out of blackness. Was he dying? He could smell blood, turian blood. His blood. Yeah, he was probably dying.

Then someone was turning him onto his back, and he took in a sharp breath, opened his eyes. There was no more gunfire. His right ear had stopped ringing, but he could hear nothing from it at all.

"Garrus!" Shepard again. She _was_ worried. Really worried. Her face wavered in his vision, red hair and pinkish skin, grey eyes. He focused on her eyes as much as he could. His own eyes didn’t want to focus, but he tried. Her eyes looked like home, silver-grey, like so much on Palaven. Would he ever see Palaven again?

Something was in his hand; his gun. He clutched at it to try to stay awake.

"We’re getting you out of here, Garrus." Shepard’s tone was soothing, but underlaced with worry. He wanted to tell her he’d be fine, they just had to get medi-gel on him, but he couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. "Just hold on."

 _Of course I’ll hold on,_ he thought, would have said if he could. _Anything for you, Shepard. Anything._

"Radio Joker! Make sure they’re ready for us!" Shepard’s tone was commanding, angry, firm.

Joker? Maybe she hadn’t died at all. Maybe everything since the attack on the Normandy had been a terrible dream. Maybe he’d have a chance to do everything right this time. The one thing he’d make sure to do would be to never leave Normandy again, not unless he had to. It didn’t matter whether Shepard loved him or not. He’d never leave her side again. With her was where he belonged.

It was his last thought before everything finally went black.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which plot starts to happen! Shepard deals with Garrus' injury and we hear from another party... (Please note that there are depictions of torture toward the end of this chapter, though not graphic.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is up so late; I had a bad week. Eliana Naseer is, as always, used with permission from my partner, who can be found at workingonsomecalibrations.tumblr.com.

Shepard watched Garrus try to dash from one piece of cover to another, watched the rocket tear into him. A sickened feeling began in her gut as she watched the blue-clad body fly, tumble, fall still on the floor.

"Garrus!" Shepard ran across the room and crouched behind a couch, staring over at her friend’s body. While the gunship’s weapon blazed overhead the world seemed to spin. For a moment, all she could do was stare at Garrus’ still form. Was he breathing? Was he…?

No time for that. She deliberately shut away the churning of her gut, the feeling that she was suddenly adrift in zero-gee. She ignored every bit of emotion except anger. Anger she could channel. Anger she could use.

"Miranda!" she shouted. "Overload its shield!"

The other woman responded immediately, and Shepard risked a glance over the edge of the couch. The gunship’s shield wasn’t down quite yet. “Shit,” she muttered, and put her shotgun on the hook at the small of her back. She pulled the arc projector off its place on her back, aimed carefully, and fired a shot of energy at the gunship. At the same time, Zaeed sent a barrage of specialized disruptor bullets at the thing.

Finally, the gunship’s shield flickered and died.

They’d already done a good amount of damage. Shepard switched out the arc projector for the shotgun again. “Give it everything you’ve got left before its shields come back!”

Zaeed poured rifle fire onto the gunship. Miranda hit it with a warp field. Their shields were taking hits, and Shepard growled in frustration. She had an insane urge to charge the thing, though reason told her that would end with her plummeting to the ground outside the window.

Instead, she fired steady blasts from her shotgun, each spray sending pellets modified to set targets afire. The gunship’s armor ablated away under the barrage.

It seemed like a very long time, but was probably only a couple of minutes, before the gunship began to falter and fall. As it fell to the bridge outside it exploded, taking Tarak with it. The relief Shepard felt was almost overwhelming, but quickly replaced by terror as she heard a gurgle behind her.

Shepard hurried over to Garrus. The floor beneath him was covered in sticky blue. She knelt down next to him, placed a hand on his armor to roll him over, and to hell with what Miranda and Zaeed thought.

Garrus gasped, coughed. He rolled over onto his side, and the eye that was upturned focused on her face.

"Garrus!" There was a keening scream coming from somewhere, and Shepard hoped to God it was in her head and not coming out of her throat.

Garrus’ breath kept coming in wheezes and gasps; he grasped at the butt of his gun as if for comfort or steadiness. Zaeed had come over and knelt on Garrus’ other side, scanning the turian with his bright orange omni-tool. With the merc’s help Shepard turned Garrus onto his back. She almost winced at the damage: half of her friend’s face seemed burned off.

"We’re getting you out of here, Garrus." Her voice came out much stronger and more confident than she felt; the room was swaying now that there wasn’t combat to focus on, and it made her dizzy. "Just hold on."

Garrus coughed in response, blue blood coming out of his mouth.

"Radio Joker!" Shepard snapped at Miranda. "Make sure they’re ready for us!"

Miranda, who had come and crouched at Garrus’ feet, nodded and stood. She moved off to radio the _Normandy_.

Shepard stare at Garrus, feeling helpless. It was Virmire all over again. Only worse, because it wasn’t a flash of light she was staring at but an actual body, bleeding out in front of her. Worse because as much as she’d _liked_ Ashley Williams, they hadn’t been nearly as close as she’d become with Garrus. Worse because Ashley dying hadn’t meant she was so damned alone.

"He’s not gonna make it," Zaeed said matter-of-factly.

The words spurred something inside her and Shepard snapped, “The hell he isn’t.” She pulled out a packet of medi-gel, started applying it to the turian’s face. Her friend wasn’t going to die because she was sitting there grieving before he was really gone.

"Shepard, it’s no use. We don’t have much medi-gel. Save if for—"

Shepard very nearly punched the mercenary. “You have two choices, Massani: shut the hell up or find me some more medi-gel.”

"Shepard—"

"Your third option is for me to use your head for practice with my biotic fields. We clear?" Her knuckles had gone almost white, holding the medi-gel to Garrus’ face, and she could tell he needed more on his chest, but she stared the mercenary down.

"Yeah," Zaeed said after a few moments. "We’re clear." He got up and moved off. The weird thing was, he didn’t even seem angry about the threat.

Miranda came back over. “There’ll be a shuttle here in five minutes. How is he?”

"Injured," Shepard snapped. "Help me get the armor off so we can get more medi-gel on him."

"We’ll be on the _Normandy_ in—”

"God damn it, is everyone going to argue with me? I’m not risking it, so help me get the fucking armor off, Lawson!" She found herself absurdly grateful for a new target to yell at.

Miranda just nodded and bent down, helping unseal Garrus’ hard suit. She hissed as it opened. “Damn,” she said. “He’s been through a lot.”

Shepard looked over and felt the world spin again. The platinum carapace was splattered with blue, and the darker, softer skin was turning an odd color in places, going a bit pale. There was a crack down the side of the plate on Garrus’ chest, and bruising—at least, she assumed it was bruising from the color—all down his side. It was clear, despite her lack of knowledge of turian anatomy, that there were new injuries overlaid on old.

Shepard’s fury was outwardly strong enough, it seemed, that despite seeing all this Miranda and Zaeed didn’t protest as she used the last of their medi-gel reserves, plus everything Zaeed found in the apartment, on every wound she could see. Her outward fury at the pair of them alternated with reassuring words given to Garrus when she’d look over and catch his eye. “It’s okay.” “You’re gonna be fine.” “We’re gonna get you out of here.”

The light was going out of Garrus’ eyes bit by bit, a little dimmer every time she looked over. By the time the shuttle got there—in four minutes, not five—his eyes wouldn’t focus on anything, and Shepard knew he was probably unconscious even if his eyes were open.

They loaded him on the shuttle, Miranda and Zaeed staying blissfully silent the entire time. Shepard wasn’t sure she’d be able to muster up any more fury, now. It had become all outward. Inside, she felt hollow.

She would not let Omega feel like Virmire, like Alchera, like Eden Prime. She would not add Garrus Vakarian’s name to the list of her dead. She would not add his voice to the ones that whispered through her mind at night. She would not. She would not. He couldn’t die. _Please, please, God, don’t let him die._

Damn, but she hated feeling helpless.

***

In the depths of the Hourglass Nebula, several days’ travel from the nearest mass relay, lay the Sowilo system. It was a backwater system in a backwater cluster, quiet and ignored. It had been scouted by salarians long ago and then mostly forgotten.

The only claim to importance Sowilo had was that the Shadow Broker had chosen its third planet, Hagalaz, to use as a base. This could hardly be said to be a claim to fame—few people knew who or what the Shadow Broker even was. When Hagalaz had been chosen, and the special ship that was base and home for the Shadow Broker built, the title had belonged to a salarian who had intended to pass the work down through their family, building a quiet and hidden legacy for their clan.

The plan might have worked if that long-dead salarian had not decided to take a specimen for study from the pre-spaceflight world of Parnack. Or perhaps another agent would have killed them and taken their place instead. The yahg that now held the title didn’t think about it much. He had other things to worry about.

The galaxy remained willfully blind to the threat that the coming Reaper invasion posed, but the Shadow Broker was anything but blind. He _would_ survive; the only question was exactly how he would manage the feat.

He had been dealing with the Collectors for years now, hoping to buy influence with the Reapers through them, but information on indoctrination had given him pause. He’d begun gathering information on a new power moving in the shadows, and was considering putting out cautious feelers. They had survived a very long time, these others. Perhaps they would be a better option for survival than the Collectors.

As he pondered this, an human operative came into his office. It was dark, and therefore difficult to see where the Broker was, what he was doing. The operative stood nervously, not even sure if the Broker was there. She cleared her throat and said, tentatively, “Sir…?”

"I said I did not wish to be disturbed." The Broker’s voice was low, gravelly, intimidating. The operative startled slightly.

"Yes, sir, it’s just that… we have a new report." A pause. "Commander Shepard is alive, sir."

"I know." He’d gotten the information days ago. The first human Spectre had been spotted on the Citadel. An annoyance, but also an opportunity. He had been planning for Shepard’s return ever since her corpse had been stolen from him and delivered to Cerberus. He might yet be able to deliver the Collectors their prize—and he suspected they’d be happier to get her alive than dead.

The operative was not surprised that the Broker already knew her information. She continued, “Well, sir, there’s also… she went to Omega, and it seems she retrieved Archangel. Reports aren’t clear on whether he is dead or alive, but…”

The Broker stared at his operative, eight eyes gleaming, and she took a step back. “We spent a great deal to get that information into the hands of those gangs.”

"Yes, sir, I know, but…"

He stood and walked around his desk. “Shepard’s team is supposed to be scattered. Busy. She is _not_ supposed to be able to get them back together.”

"Yes, sir. A-and… they _are_ busy, sir. The rest of them.” The operative hastily brought up her omni-tool. “We’ve convinced the Alliance that Cerberus is behind the attacks on human colonies, and they have Commander Alenko chasing that down. Urdnot Wrex is mired in politics on Tuchanka. Dr. T’Soni is still chasing shadows on Illium. Tali’Zorah ran into Shepard on Freedom’s Progress, but—”

"WHAT?!" The Broker lunged forward, almost going for the human woman’s throat.

She didn’t move, though there was fear in her eyes. She had been taken at a young age, trained to be loyal. She knew how to respond to the yahg’s outbursts. “We know where she is going next, sir. An operative managed to intercept part of a message to Admiral Rael’Zorah. It seems their next mission will be to Haestrom.”

The Broker leaned back, his fury residing. “Haestrom,” he mused. He could see possibilities, there. Those he was thinking of reaching out to might be _very_ interested in the quarians returning to Haestrom. “Tali’Zorah can be dealt with. I’ll handle it myself.” He began to walk forward, past the woman. “Contact the Collectors and give them Alenko’s location. Also offer the Alliance further proof that Cerberus is behind the Collector attacks. If the Collectors don’t kill Alenko, there’ll be a further wedge driven between him and Shepard.”

"Yes, sir." The woman was following, tapping at her omni-tool.

The yahg strode to the door of his office and continued, “The krogan won’t leave Tuchanka, but I want an update from our operatives there, just in case there’s anything we can use to make sure he stays. As for T’Soni…” He frowned. “She might just pick up and follow Shepard if she’s not kept busy. We’ll accelerate the timetable. Drop her a few crumbs, and arrange for her assistant to have an… accident. The Observer should move in and take the position.”

"Yes, sir. I’ll get right on that."

As they exited the office, the Broker added, “And contact Rasa, or Hope Lilium, or whatever she’s calling herself these days. Find out what her price is to tell us who else Cerberus wants Shepard to recruit.”

With a final nod the operative moved away to carry out his orders.

The yahg moved on down the hallway to a window that overlooked a room in which an array of monitors and medical equipment surrounded a single chair. A tall asari was strapped into that chair, still wearing the silver-and-red outfit in which they’d captured her two years ago. It astounded the Broker, sometimes, what the galaxy’s technology could do, how long their materials held up.

The asari was blue-skinned as they all were, though her skin was a darker blue than most. Her natural markings were white: patterning above the eyes and a thin stripe from the bottom lip over her chin. A pair of red tattoos marked her cheeks, a triangle from the back of the jaw to the middle of each cheek. The Broker knew they were tattoos; when he had first seen the asari, she hadn’t worn them. She had gained them while in his service.

"Valkyrie," he rumbled at her. He called her by the codename she’d held during the last years of her service to him, a human word some other operative found fitting.

The asari looked up at him with violet eyes; glared really. “Shadow Broker.” Her voice was raspy, but defiant. Some asari were easy to break, but the ones that weren’t proved exceedingly difficult. This one had been tortured for nearly two years without giving up much at all. The Broker had some new ammunition to use against her, though.

"I need to know what you told Vakarian while he was working with you," the Broker said matter-of-factly. " _Everything_ you told him.”

"Only if you call me by my name. I don’t work for you anymore, remember? It’s Eliana Naseer, though you should call me Spec—"

The asari’s defiance was met with a hammer of the yahg’s fist on a button by the window. She screamed as energy coursed into the chair and then into her body, firing off her pain receptors.

"This really isn’t necessary, Valkyrie," the Broker said impassively, hiding his anger at the asari that had worked for him for decades and then betrayed him. "Just tell me what you told Vakarian and I’ll leave you alone."

Naseer gasped in her chair as the energy stopped, but kept glaring at him. “You don’t know half the things you think you do. What makes you think I told Vakarian anything?”

"You were vetting him to be a Spectre. You wanted him to come with you to help T’Soni retrieve Shepard’s body. You must have told him something."

The asari frowned for a moment and then her eyes widened. “Shepard’s alive,” she said softly. “Shepard’s alive, and she’s got Vakarian with her, or you wouldn’t care.”

The Shadow Broker stifled his annoyance that she’d put the information together. He’d expect nothing less from his agents. “Yes, Shepard is alive.” He paused for a moment. “You know what we’ll have to do to T’Soni if she tries to join the Normandy again.”

Naseer swallowed, frowned. The Broker had been right about using T’Soni against her; it seemed to get to her more than the pain had. “He doesn’t know anything,” she said, grudgingly. “We knew you had someone in the Spectres on the payroll. It was safer if he didn’t know anything. I was going to tell him when he joined us, but he just… took off.” There was an edge of anger there, but the Broker ignored it. He already knew the grudge Naseer held against Vakarian for not being there when the two asari had stolen Shepard’s body. She probably believed the turian could have kept her from being captured.

The Broker very much doubted that.

"And do you think the Spectre office knows who my informant is?"

"I’ve been your prisoner for two years and I’ve only got the vaguest idea." Naseer was watching him carefully. "You still going to try to sell Shepard to the Collectors? It’s not going to work, you know. She’s a _Spectre_. We’re hard to take down.”

The Broker smirked at the asari. “I captured you, didn’t I?”

There was a moment’s pause, and then Naseer said in a low voice that sounded almost ashamed, “Shepard doesn’t have the bad taste to fall in love with her squad.”

"Is that something T’Soni told you?" The Broker was amused to see Naseer flinch as she realized she’d given something away. "Do you think T’Soni would give up trying to avenge you if Shepard called? I think so. She still has a piece of Shepard’s armor, did you know that? Nothing of yours, though. Do you think it’s really that she cares, or just guilt that drives her?" He paused, then added, "I am putting the Observer in as her assistant. You know how good she is at… disposal."

Naseer glared at him, tried to fight against her bindings. “If you hurt her, I swear I’ll—”

In response, the Broker pressed the button. In seconds the asari was screaming again. There was no need of words to show who was in charge.

It was a joy, to establish his knowledge and dominance over this creature who thought herself his better. Asari were at the top of the galaxy, but they were weak, did not deserve the position. Naseer herself proved that. She had been one of his first operatives, all those decades ago, an assassin and spy. She’d done her job well, but when faced with a compromise of her “morality” she’d left, too weak to remain, too weak to be _loyal_. The Council had made her a Spectre, which gave her some measure of protection from his vengeance. Back then, he had respect the Spectres. In the last two years the Broker had come to have little but contempt for Spectres. They were easily compromised. Just look at Saren, or his own informant.

The asari thought all were equal, that everyone should be treated “fairly.” Such creatures deserved nothing but scorn. Naseer was even worse, for she had succumbed to a thing the Broker thought the most foolish of all the galaxy’s follies: she’d fallen in love. It was love that had made her sacrifice herself to save T’Soni, allowing the young asari to get away with Shepard’s body. Bad for her, but good for him. He suspected it was guilty that had kept T’Soni from contacting her former shipmates or the Alliance, to let them know Shepard might just turn up alive someday.

The Broker turned away and went back to his office with the asari still screaming behind him. He had much to do. When the Reapers came, they would kill all these unworthy, weak races. The yahg alone would be left, and he would return to Parnack triumphant, with his information and his technology, to become leader of the whole planet. He would ensure that they prepared for the next cycle, that they would kill the Reapers once and for all.

This cycle was worthless; even their great hero Shepard fumbled in the dark. It would be the yahg who eradicated the scourge of the Reapers. He would ensure the ascendance of his species, and himself most of all. He would be remembered for all of time, the hero who saved the galaxy.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus dreams, and then wakes. Shepard worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late. Working on the next chapter already!

Shepard paced in the medbay, trying and failing to keep herself from watching what Dr. Chakwas was doing. She stopped, turned to face Garrus’ form, lying still on the bed. His armor was off, his body covered in bruises and blood. She turned away as that keening scream started rising in her mind again. Turned back, unable to help herself. Her head was throbbing and her bad shoulder ached, but she couldn’t make herself leave.

"Shepard," Chakwas said with all the patience she could muster, "you need to leave. For his sake and yours."

"Karin, please…" Shepard was stunned to find she was almost whining.

"Olivia." Chakwas looked up, and Shepard stopped pacing, stared at the doctor. Chakwas so rarely used her first name, _everyone_ so rarely used her first name, that it was stunning to hear it and got her attention quickly.

Chakwas, sure she had the Commander’s attention, said, “Please, go.”

Shepard nodded, swallowed, and walked out the door.

And proceeded to stare at the closed door from ten feet away as though rooted to the spot.

As she stood there, body aching from the battle and from that pain in her shoulder that seemed to linger, her mind whirled with a multitude of thoughts. How badly she needed Garrus. How badly she needed to _not be alone._ Seeing him again had been so tumultuous, she hadn’t had a chance to think about how much she’d missed him: his laugh, the deep rumble of his sub-vocals, the sparkle in his eyes.

More than anything, she’d missed the easy camaraderie they’d always had, the shared desire for justice—even if he wanted shortcuts and she was marginally less likely to shoot people out of hand. They’d been a sort of mutual admiration society, and she hadn’t realized how much she needed someone who admired _her_ , not just “Commander Shepard,” until it was gone.

The thing that she kept turning over and over, however, was his reaction to her. It was subtle, and turians could be hard to read, but there’d been mandible twitches, an undertone in his voice, the way he kept looking at her like she was the most wonderful thing he’d ever seen and then looking away as though afraid she’d seen the look in his eyes.

She put it all together with the other things she’d seen on the first _Normandy:_ the way he’d stammer if she disagreed with him, the way he always, _always_ had time for her even if he was in the middle of something. The feel of his eyes, following her as she walked away; not quite the same as a human’s might have, not the sense of sexual admiration Shepard was admittedly all too used to. And yet, it was still the feeling of someone not being able to get enough of watching you move. Like he wasn’t admiring her _body_ , but her _stride_ , her movements. Which made sense, turians were predators and soldiers, she imagined if Garrus was watching a turian he was attracted to walk by he’d have much the same expression…

Oh, hell. Garrus had a crush on her.

Well, that was awkward.

_Why’s he have to go and mess things up?_ she wondered, not entertaining the idea that this was all moot that he was dying anyway. They were friends. That was good. What if he was in love with her? Garrus didn’t seem like the kind of guy to do things halfway. What would he do when she didn’t reciprocate his love? She shuddered a little, remembering the last time, remembering how badly that had gone.

The idea that she reciprocated his attraction was long since a foregone conclusion. Shepard wasn’t attracted to very many people; only good friends, and even then rarely, but she knew what it felt like. The way he moved, the way he talked, the way he _smelled_ , like something both sharply metallic and softly sweet. Sex with a turian? She had no idea how it’d work, but she’d wondered more than once what it’d be like, even when her liaison with Liara had made her feel like that was wrong to think about somehow.

Sex was never just sex, though; sex meant emotions that could get messy when you were dealing with command structure and military operations. Sex meant the crew feeling like there must be favoritism going on. And then, of course, if he _was_ in love with her, there were all the other complications involved.

It had happened before. She’d been with someone, and they’d fallen in love, and she’d broken their heart. The last time, she’d dallied with Liara, shared her bed with the asari on the eve of the mission to Ilos. And then when bright blue eyes had grown too soft around her, when it was clear she wanted the relationship to be long-term, Shepard had pushed her away. They’d fought, and that very day Shepard had died, and she hated to think what she’d put the poor girl through. She’d been trying to avoid thinking about it at all.

But Liara wasn’t here, and Garrus was. So what the hell was she going to do about him?

_He’s going to die anyway_ , said a little voice in her mind, and then she was imagining Garrus dead, Garrus gone, life without him. The screaming started in her head again and she drove herself to so much pain with it that she went back to pondering “should I seduce him” to stop thinking about it. Her body was in enough pain as it was.

But that lead right back into “it’s not worth thinking about because Garrus is dying.” It was a vicious cycle.

Miranda came up to her about an hour into this. She watched the Commander for a moment, the way the redhead’s arms were folded across her chest, the clenching of her jaw. These, and the grey-eyed stare, hard as diamond, were the only signs of the tension the marine was under.

"You love him," Miranda said after her assessment.

Shepard blinked and looked at the woman as if only just seeing her. Which, in a way, she was. She hadn’t quite realized Miranda had come up, and then it was as though the woman knew exactly what she was thinking about. “What? No. No, not… not like that.”

Miranda chuckled, thought it was kinder than one might have expected from the Cerberus operative. “You aren’t fooling anyone. It’s pretty clear he’s into you, too. I saw the way he looked at you.”

"No, it’s…" Shepard looked back at the door. "I don’t… feel about people that way." And she didn’t. As much as she felt she’d been turned inside out, even now, even as she was trying to imagine _Garrus dead_ and finding nothing but bleak darkness, it didn’t feel any different than it ever had. As much as she, yes, _wanted_ to pursue something resembling a relationship with him, the quality of her feelings toward him hadn’t changed a whit.

The vids (and well-meaning family members) had long claimed that one day she’d find the “right one,” and suddenly there would be a magical burst of hearts and stars and butterflies, a swoop and swoon, bubbles of happiness, some special magical connection she had with _only that person._ Her mother had brought it up with everyone she’d ever dated or shown a hint of interest in, right up to Liara, and every time things had ended (usually badly) Hannah Shepard had said “well, just wait, you’ll find that person someday.”

Well, her best friend, the person in the galaxy she needed the most, was dying on an operating table, and she felt none of that. No special thing she wouldn’t feel if it was Liara or Tali or Kaidan instead. And yet, the depth of her feeling, of her pain, was no less. Did she love him? Yes. In the same way she loved Joker. Was she “in love” with him? No. She was sure most people would think her broken.

Shepard cleared her throat. She wasn’t sure why she felt she owed Miranda an explanation, but she went on anyway. “I’ve never… felt that way… for anyone. I don’t think I’m wired for it.” She shrugged giving a bleak chuckle. “Causes a lot of trouble, you know. I’m confident, good-looking, I try to be a good friend. People fall for me and I don’t… return the feelings.” She shook her head. “You’re probably right that he has a… thing for me. Don’t know what I’m going to do about it when he wakes up.”

Miranda nodded. “I know what you mean,” she said quietly.

Shepard blinked at her, startled out of staring at the medbay door. “You… what?”

"You care about people, but you don’t feel the kind of attachment they want. Or you think they’re good for relaxing, or… trying to procreate." Miranda smirked a bit. "There are a lot of nasty names some people will call you. They don’t understand."

Shepard nodded, looking back to the door. “It’s not that you don’t care,” she said. “Not that you can’t feel love. But the word ‘love’ is too broad, it covers too much. There’s this type of love everyone else seems to feel that you just…”

"…don’t," Miranda finished. Her eyes were far away. After a moment, "I used to think it was just me. That I was broken somehow. I don’t even find myself sexually attracted to anyone, let alone… all the rest of it."

"There are words for it, you know," Shepard said softly. She felt inexplicably closer to the woman, suddenly, as if she’d seen into some part of the veneer the operative put up. She was suddenly curious to know the rest of the reasons for said veneer. "There are a lot of people who feel this way."

Miranda shrugged. “I don’t know that it matters. I know how I am. I don’t need to announce it to the galaxy.” A pause. “What _are_ you going to do about him… when he wakes up?”

Shepard felt profound gratitude that Miranda had not said ‘if.’ Had not given that idea voice. “Have a few drinks? Ask him to dance? Not that that’d go very well. I’m a terrible dancer.” She shrugged. “I… honestly, I don’t know. The way he looked at me when he realized I was alive…” She let out a long breath. “I can’t break his heart, Miranda. I just _can’t_.”

Miranda shook her head. “Perhaps it’s better not to try, then. I mean, human-turian relationships…”

The comment should have made Shepard angry, but she hurt too much to be angry, right now, and she desperately wanted this fragile thing that had suddenly sprung up between them to remain intact. She wanted Miranda for a friend, properly, not just an ally against Cerberus. So she smirked and said, “What can I say? I’m a pioneer. Anyway, what’s your boss gonna do, pull my funding?”

Miranda chuckled. “I doubt he cares who you share your bed with.”

Shepard snorted. “I’m not gonna bet on it. Not if it’s an alien.”

They were silent for a moment and then Miranda said, “You used a lot of biotics down there. Have you eaten since we got back up?”

Shepard just shook her head.

"I’ll get you something. Don’t move." The woman was all business in manner, but there was an undercurrent to her tone, a softness. Concern, maybe. It made Shepard want to cry.

Instead she just nodded, said, “Thanks,” and kept staring at the medbay door while the sentinel walked off.

Maybe this wasn’t Hell after all.

***

Turian dreams are not like the dreams of other species. Where asari, humans, quarians, and many others have dreams that are surreal, that have strange logic or seem to try to predict the future, turian dreams are, quite simply, replays of memories.

A turian might spend the night reliving the day before, with their dreams focusing on minute details missed during the day’s events, the better to assess and learn from their surroundings. Or their dreams might replay older memories, ones with connections to what has been going on around them. A turian who runs into an old friend might spend that night reliving memories of past time spent with them, whether emotionally charged or comforting, or perhaps reminders of past betrayal.

Both asari and turian scholars have long posited that the nature of turian dreams is at the root of their practicality and determination. Turians are relentlessly concerned with _what is_ rather than _what could be_ , and many believe it is the lack of surreal or illogical connections in dreams that makes them this way. Most species spend a good portion of their lives in a strange, alien dreamscape; turians spend that time within their own memories, within rational, logical dreams.

The exception, of course, is when a turian dreams while on narcotic or psychotropic drugs. They are no less susceptible to the effects of certain substances than any other species. The main difference is that turians rarely know what to make of these dreams when they happen.

While Dr. Chakwas worked over him, and Shepard fretted about him, Garrus dreamed.

_What was odd about the dream, at first, was that he was floating in calm water. He was somewhere bright and warm, floating on his back, staring up at a silver-blue sky with a too-bright sun. The sky of Palaven._

_Shepard was there, standing in water up to her waist, wearing a black one-piece swimsuit with red trim and the N7 logo on her right breast. He wanted to tell her that she really ought to be more covered up, that Trebia’s radioactive output would hurt her skin if she wasn’t careful. He wanted to tell her that she was beautiful. He couldn’t find the words for either, somehow._

_He realized, too, that he was wearing swimming trunks and nothing else. Why was he floating out in the water like this? Some turians spent time at the beach, some even swam, but he had never been very good at it._

_Shepard smiled at him. “Aren’t you going to swim?” she said. “The water’s warm, the sun is high. Bet you can’t beat me to the breakwater out there.” She gestured behind him, grinning._

_"Have you ever seen a turian swim, Shepard?" Garrus shook his head. "I’m fine right here."_

_Shepard laughed. “Afraid I’ll beat you, Vakarian?”_

_"No, it’s not…" The water was warm and comfortable. He just wanted to float like this forever. No pain, no worries. "It’s nice here. You go swim if you want to."_

_She folded her arms across her chest, quirked a brow at him. “Uh-huh. Scaredy-cat. Scaredy-bird?”_

_Garrus sat up a bit to glare at her and then caught sight of what was behind her. Instead of a beach, as there should have been, there was a battlefield full of husks and geth. Over it all loomed a giant Reaper—Sovereign._

_Garrus gasped, stood up entirely, though he didn’t feel his feet hit the sandy bottom as it should have. “Shepard! Look! Behind you!”_

_Shepard glanced over her shoulder. “What, that?” She shrugged and looked back at him. “I dealt with that already. Come swim with me.”_

_"But, Shepard, the Reapers…"_

_Shepard looked at him very seriously. “I thought you weren’t worried about the Reapers anymore. I thought you had another mission now.”_

_Suddenly he was on Omega again, in his armor, standing at the window overlooking the bridge. He had his rifle in his hand._

_"This is what you chose, remember?" Shepard was still there, sitting on the window ledge next to him, still wearing the swimsuit. She crossed her legs and frowned at him. "You couldn’t handle me dying, so you left. You ran away. What do you care if the Reapers are coming?"_

_"No, it’s not like that," Garrus protested._

_There were geth pouring across the bridge now. “Are you going to take care of that?” Shepard asked without looking back, ignoring the gunfire that came at the window and somehow didn’t hit her at all._

_Garrus knelt down, rested the rifle on the window ledge, began to fire at the geth. “I had to do something,” he said as he took down one geth after another. “Everyone else was ignoring what was going on. I couldn’t do anything on the Citadel.”_

_"You ran away," Shepard said simply, shrugged. "Did you think I’d be okay with it?"_

_"No, I don’t…" There were too many. Garrus stood, reached out a hand to grab Shepard’s shoulder. "We have to get out of here. I can’t hold them off."_

_Shepard shook him off and looked around. “Aren’t you forgetting someone? If we’re going to go swimming, there’s someone else that should be here.”_

_"Swimming?" Garrus stared at her. "Shepard, the geth!"_

_Shepard ignored him, slid off the windowsill, walked across the room behind him. She moved as though she were still in the water. It was mesmerizing. “There you are,” she said to someone he couldn’t see. “Where’ve you been?”_

_Garrus turned and saw Tali standing in the doorway, wearing a purple full-body wetsuit and her helmet. The suit even covered her metal arm._

_"I was getting a new suit," the quarian said. "Do you like it?"_

_Shepard smiled and walked over to the quarian, wrapped an arm around her waist. “I do.”_

_Tali put her arm over the human’s shoulders and peered at Garrus. “What are you doing?” she said. “I thought we were going swimming.”_

_Garrus looked back. Omega was gone, the geth were gone. There was just water and sand. He was floating again, warm and comfortable. “Oh. Right.” Everything was right, now. Tali was there, Shepard was there. Everything was right.”_

_"Aren’t you forgetting someone?" Tali asked._

_"No, I…" Garrus frowned. "This is right. This is how things are supposed to be."_

_He looked at them, standing together, Shepard leaning on Tali a little, Tali pulling her close with the arm around the human’s shoulder. It was right, somehow. They were intertwined in his head, in a way he wasn’t really wholly aware of even now, in his dreams. He definitely wouldn’t be aware of it while awake._

_"Have you heard from Liara lately?" It was Shepard who spoke, blinking at him with silver-grey eyes. She frowned at him. "Aren’t you forgetting someone?"_

_Garrus frowned, confused, trying to make sense of things. “No. I… no. There’s you two, and…”_

_The two spoke in unison, cutting in, shocking him with the force of the words: “What ever happened to Eliana Naseer?”_

Garrus woke with a start, blinking at the bright lights of the med bay. His face hurt and his chest hurt, though the pain seemed less than it should be. There was a faint ringing in his right ear that seemed strongest when there was silence.

"Finally awake, I see." Dr. Chakwas stood near the bed, scanning him with her omni-tool.

Garrus frowned at her, very slightly. Moving the plates even slightly made his face hurt. “Where am I?”

"Normandy’s medbay," Chakwas replied, tapping at her omni-tool. She smiled to him after a moment. "And no, the last two years haven’t been some terrible dream. You’re on the new Normandy."

"The Alliance rebuilt the Normandy?" He was trying to piece things together, make sense of everything, but he felt odd. The dream had left him confused, unbalanced.

Chakwas sighed and looked at him more seriously. “No. We’re not with the Alliance. We are…” She paused, then went on, “Cerberus built this ship.”

"What?!" Garrus groaned; shouting had been too hard on his face. He almost sat up but sank back. "Cerberus??"

"They appear to be less… terrible than they were in the past. Or at least, they’re trying to appear so. I don’t think Shepard’s entirely happy with things, but the Alliance won’t help her and Cerberus will." A beat, and then, "Human colonies are disappearing, Garrus. Shepard thinks it might be the Reapers."

Garrus sighed. “So we work with Cerberus…? No, no, I’ll ask Shepard. She must have a good reason.”

The entire conversation, Garrus had been noticing something odd. Chakwas was moving around the bed, and as she came around to his right side her voice became more muffled. He almost instinctively turned his head to present the left ear. He could hear out of the right, but only barely. He could feel bandaging there; was that the only reason?

Chakwas continued, “You were badly hurt, but we’ve fixed up your face and you chest will heal. Both will scar, I expect.” She paused, then continued, “I’m afraid the worst of the damage was to your ear. We corrected with cybernetics, but there is only so much technology can do.”

Garrus peered at her for a moment, head turned so he could hear better. “So the hearing on my right side is diminished because of the damage? Not just the bandage?”

Chakwas nodded. “I’m afraid so, and it’s likely to deteriorate further with time. I am not as familiar with turian physiology as I’d like, but the damage seemed to go right to the aural nerve. Permanent correction would likely require brain surgery, and even then it may not bring back your full hearing.”

Garrus turned his head from side to side as she spoke, gauging the difference. It was significant on the right side, though he suspected part of that was the bandage. As he did this he was already considering setting up a sonar system with his visor, to make up for the lost hearing to his right. Surely he could set up visual alerts to make up for the loss of auditory alert on his right side during battle.

"Garrus? Are you alright? I know it’s a shock…"

Garus blinked and looked at Chakwas. “What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. It’ll take adjusting, but I think I can manage. Don’t worry about me. I can do my job.”

"That’s… not quite what I meant. You’re not upset?"

"Soldiers get injured, Doctor. You adjust and you move on." Garrus moved to sit up, looking over the injuries to his chest. "Am I upset I took a rocket to the face and now half my hearing’s gone? Yeah, but mostly because I should have done better. My reflexes should’ve been sharper." He shrugged. "But if it wasn’t injury, age would do it eventually. Nobody stays healthy forever."

Chakwas folded her arms across her chest. “I must say, you’re taking this much better than a human would.”

Garrus looked up at her. “How would a human take it?”

Chakwas replied, “Oh, they’d be worried about how others would see them, whether they’d be worth as much now. Lament the loss of what they’d had, and so on. Though admittedly, we’re not that far removed from treating every disabled person as a burden on society. Jeff has had to fight to get recognition, and you know what a good pilot he is. But people look at him and assume he can’t do his job because of his disability. That’s how we think, even now.” Chakwas frowned. “One could argue genetic engineering has almost made it worse. Every human is now expected to be some sort of pinnacle of health and longevity.”

Garrus shook his head. “That’s an odd way to look at it. Every turian contributes what they can, the way they can, and every turian is taken care of in return. Well, I mean, that’s the theory anyway. I’m not going to pretend the meritocracy is perfect or anything.” He chuckled, and then groaned, putting a hand to his chest. “But we know we’re all one bad hit away from losing some functionality. Why judge people for that, whether they were injured or just born different?”

He shook his head again. Sometimes he forgot how young a species humans were. It astounded him that as good a pilot as Joker could be judged on anything but his merits, but Chakwas spoke as if brittle bones really did matter to humans’ view of his ability to do his job. How odd.

"Really, Doctor," he continued, "I’ll be fine. I’ll work out a way to make up for it on the battlefield and I’ll adjust in the rest of my life. Thank you for doing what you could."

Chakwas nodded. “Of course. Now, I want you to be careful, but I suspect keeping you in the medbay will just make you stir-crazy.” She smiled. “So I’ll check you over and get you dressed and you can go see Shepard. She’s been worried.”

"S… she has?" That caught Garrus off-guard. He coughed to cover the stammer. "Well, I mean, that’s… ahh… I’ll be glad to let her know I’m okay."

Chakwas raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m sure you will. But first you must promise me you will check in every day until we’re certain your wounds have healed properly.”

"Alright, alright." Garrus grinned, though mostly on the left side. "Whatever lets me get out of here quickly. I don’t want to have to have any more of those painkillers. I had the weirdest dream."

***

Miranda managed to pull Shepard away from staring at the medbay and got her to eat, then sent the Commander to her cabin to change. She took her time showering and dressing. Standing in the shower she finally gave in to the emotional turmoil, broke down and sobbed for five full minutes, curled up on the floor beneath the hot water.

The whole time she felt an odd and growing desire to have Tali there. To have Tali making sure she was eating and showering and getting dressed. To reassure each other that Garrus would be okay. Tali would be worried, if she knew, but despite the quarian’s youth Shepard couldn’t help but feel it would be Tali doing the comforting more than the other way around.

Why Shepard thought of the quarian _specifically_ she couldn’t put her finger on. Maybe it was just that they’d seen each other recently. She found herself wishing Tali was there to talk to, or just stand quiet with. The quarian was taller by a few inches, about the right height to put a suited arm around the human’s shoulders, to be leaned into for comfort.

The odd part was that it was so specifically Tali she wished were standing vigil with her. Wrex not quite being on the list she understood—he liked Garrus well enough but she didn’t think he’d be much comfort or help. But why not Liara, or Kaidan? She’d become close with Alenko in a friendly way once they’d established that their relationship would remain platonic. As for Liara, she had been the one who’d been… something. A lover, maybe, even if what they’d had hadn’t lasted. Still, Liara would be a natural person to miss; she’d been in the shore party a lot, too. So… why Tali? Why was it the quarian that was becoming intertwined in her thoughts next to the turian? Was it a dextro thing?

She reminded herself to give Tali a call. Let her know Garrus was around and okay, once she _was_ sure he was around and okay. The thought of him not being okay sent her to tears again (crumpled on the floor next to her bed) but it seemed to be the final bout—at least for now.

By the time she got down to the comm room, she had become Commander Shepard again, all calm and collected. Jacob was already there when she walked in, leaning on the table in the center of the room. The look on his face—worried but hopeful—mirrored her own feelings.

Shepard walked over to the table and leaned on it herself, putting the heels of her hands on its edge.

As she settled herself, Jacob spoke. “Commander. We’ve done what we could for Garrus, but he took a bad hit. The docs corrected with surgical procedures and some cybernetics. Best we can tell, he’ll have full functionality, except for his right ear, but…”

Before Jacob could go on, the door opened and Garrus walked in. He was wearing the armor he’d had on Omega, banged up and damaged as it was. His face was bandaged, his ear entirely covered, but the bandage didn’t really cover the scarring that covered the right side of his face. It came down over his mouth to his right mandible, and almost up to his right eye. She hadn’t realized the damage was so bad.

Garrus was all business as he walked in. “Shepard.”

Jacob laughed. “Tough son of a bitch. Didn’t think he’d be up yet.”

Shepard turned to face Garrus, put on a smile. She really was happy to see him up and about so soon, and she didn’t want him to see how worried she was about his injuries. Chakwas would never have let him out of the medbay if he wasn’t fit to be about.

She found herself wondering what Tali would think of the scars.

Garrus stroked his cheek, his focus on Shepard. “Nobody would give me a mirror. How bad is it?”

Shepard crossed her arms over her chest, made her tone light. “Hell, Garrus, you were always ugly. Slap some face paint on there, and no one’ll even notice.” The banter felt normal, somehow, not as strained as she’d thought it’d be. It felt comfortable.

Garrus shifted a bit and chuckled, then winced. “Oh, don’t make me laugh, damn it. My face is barely holding together as it is.” He stepped forward, focused on her, then looked away as if… nervous, maybe? “Some women find facial scars attractive. Mind you, most of those women are krogan…”

Shepard just smiled and shook her head, not trusting herself to reply with Jacob in the room. Or in front of the Cerberus listening devices and cameras. She was aware, now, of his flirting, of the way he looked at her and then didn’t, of the tone in his voice. She was also aware, as they fell back into the easy banter of the old days, of her own desire to flirt back. But she was horrible at that, and worse with people watching.

Jacob, maybe sensing that the two needed a private moment, saluted Shepard and then walked out of the room. Garrus watched him go, blue eyes assessing, considering.

Once the operative was out of the room, Garrus turned back to her, his tone serious now. “Frankly, Shepard, I’m more worried about you. Cerberus, Shepard? You remember those sick experiments they were doing?”

Shepard understood the change in tone. That he wanted to talk about work rather than anything personal was, well, normal for Garrus. And it _was_ important. She dropped her arms and stepped close to him, closing the gap between them. “That’s why I’m glad you’re here, Garrus. If I’m walking into hell, I want someone I trust at my side.” She tried to keep just how badly she needed him out of her tone. How lost she felt. He’d always looked to her for guidance, and she needed to be strong for him. It was, at least, a familiar feeling.

Garrus just looked at her. “You realize this plan has me walking into hell, too.” He waved it off, smirking. “Hmm. Just like old times.”

Shepard was surprised at her own relief. She hadn’t realized until just now how much she’d been worried he’d leave, refuse to work with Cerberus. If he was here… if he was here, maybe things would be okay.

Garrus’ tone turned more serious, became his “work” voice. “I’m fit for duty whenever you need me, Shepard. I’ll settle in and see what I can do at the forward batteries.” He turned to leave, and Shepard watched him go.

She stayed in the room for a few minutes, trying to gauge her own reactions and feelings. Finally she gave up. She needed to check on the rest of the crew, see how people were doing after the mission, and then she’d check in on Garrus. And, of course, there was still that message to send to Tali.

Sending out a silent plea that the quarian was both alright and would be willing to come join them (and why _did_ she keep thinking of Tali and Garrus in the same breath, lately?), Shepard left the comm room herself.


	7. Update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not a proper chapter, but a brief update on the status of things.

Okay, so. I haven't touched this fic in, what, 8 months? And I figure that deserve some explanation.

See, 4 days after I posted the last chapter of this whole thing, my grandmother died. That led to a bunch of other changes in my life, including a deep creative slump.

I'm doing more writing now (there will be Dragon Age fic soon!) and so I'm going to get back to working on this fic. I can't promise when that will happen. Hopefully within the next couple of weeks. Shepard and Garrus and Tali deserve their story to be told. :)

Thanks to those who've commented, left kudos, etc. Your patience will soon be rewarded.

(I'll remove this chapter once there's a proper update, I suppose. :P)


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